


The Raven and the Wolf

by ms_katonic



Series: Glory to the Forsworn [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Bondage, Companions, Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, Forsworn, Orgasm Control, Pegging, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:23:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_katonic/pseuds/ms_katonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In preparation for becoming Harbinger, Kodlak Whitemane takes one last job before entering semi-retirement. It does not go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Raven and the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: BDSM, femdom, pegging, bloodplay, biting, dubious consent, Stockholm Syndrome, bondage and orgasm denial. 
> 
> So the SKM struck again and someone wanted Hagraven pr0n.
> 
> Guess who just happened to have a well-developed Hag OC lying around. So Keirine from N&J got a fic of her own, in which it turns out a revenge plot and the need for compensation for her brother's imprisonment, not to mention her own past suffering, didn't go quite how she expected. It certainly didn't go how Kodlak Whitemane expected.
> 
> Fic is set around 182 4E. Kodlak's about 45, Keirine 40. This fic ties in to Nightshade and Juniper and Thicker Than Blood, but can stand alone. Madanach does not make a personal appearance here despite the tag but he is mentioned a lot.

Kodlak was already regretting taking this job on. One last swing of the greatsword before he settled in as Harbinger and gave up active jobs, that was what this was supposed to be. One last goodbye to the warrior life as he settled into the role of advisor to the rest of the Companions. Honoured to have been chosen, but at the same time, deeply saddened. Still, it didn't have to be the end. Just meant he'd have to slow down a bit, that's all.

So he'd taken this job, against the rebellious natives of the Reach known as the Forsworn. They'd been a problem for years, sporadically raiding and robbing the Nords but more often fighting amongst themselves. Right up until the 160's and then things had taken an ugly turn as they'd got increasingly more organised, settlements and villages turning into military camps, and then while everyone else had been busy with the Great War, they'd struck, that damn king of theirs Madanach leading the rebellion that had unseated a Jarl. For two years he'd ruled the Reach, until Ulfric Stormcloak had returned from the war, a veteran warrior, not an idealistic boy any longer, and haunted by memories of witch-elf atrocities. Small wonder he'd shown the Forsworn no mercy. Madanach had escaped the initial overthrow, but they'd run him to ground eventually, finally taking him prisoner last year. He was serving life in Cidhna Mine, and the rebellion he'd founded had seemed to lose heart. It had lost something of its vehemence anyway, although the Reach was still not in any way safe. Which is why the Companions had been called in to help, Askar deciding no true Nord could stand by and watch the vile murdering Daedra-worshippers slaughter their kinsmen. So far it hadn't gone well, and Kodlak had lost some dear friends to these barbarians, including Askar himself. He was determined to avenge them.

So here he was in Deepwood Redoubt, reclaiming a family heirloom the Forsworn had stolen. So far, not too bad – he'd killed the guards already, and a third was waiting for him at the end of the corridor, a young-ish man with Reach-silver hair and striking golden eyes, grinning at him – grinning? 

Too late Kodlak realised this corridor was trapped as the Forsworn pulled a lever and watched, still grinning as the axes swept down on him. Roaring, Kodlak flung himself to the ground, avoiding the worst but not escaping unscathed as he crashed to the ground at the end, bleeding and his vision blurring and Talos help him, was that poison on those blades?

The green of a paralysis spell enveloped him and there were two of them, the silver-haired man and a dark-haired woman staring down at him.

“Got him,” the man laughed. “Really, these Nord mercenaries are just too easy.”

The woman was casting a healing spell on him, sealing the wounds up, which was odd, why would they heal an enemy?

“Indeed but the Matriarch will thank us for this one, Uraccen. Take a look at that armour. This one's _special_.”

“Doesn't look it,” Uraccen sniffed. “So his armour's a bit shinier than the usual, so what?”

“Not his armour,” the woman breathed, delighted. “His _blood_. He's a Companion of Jorrvaskr, one of the leaders. We've been waiting for one of them to attack for months. Our Matriarch will be _delighted_. Come on, get Cernos and Celann in here, it'll take all of us to move him.”

Uraccen did as asked, leaving the woman staring down at Kodlak gleefully. Kodlak could only shiver. The Forsworn bastards had lured him into a trap, and they knew about the beast blood. This couldn't end well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They'd tied his limbs around a pole and paraded him through the camp, suspended from it like a fresh kill, gagged as well although he didn't know the Thu'um, few did. Seemed the Forsworn weren't taking chances. 

The spell had worn off and he'd started to flex his muscles, preparing to assume beast form and claw his way to safety, but the Forsworn had been prepared for that too, producing a silvery rope and lashing it around his torso. It bit and burned and it stopped the transformation in its tracks. Kodlak cried and struggled but it just gripped him harder, bringing tears to his eyes as the watching Forsworn jeered.

“Calm down, Companion,” the woman told him, still grinning. “It only hurts if you struggle. Just submit and all will be well.”

Kodlak tried to struggle again, but the pain just got worse and he subsided, weeping from the agony and the humiliation of being paraded around like a beast. Finally they took him into the ruins proper and at least the spectacle of laughing and celebrating Forsworn was gone. He wasn't sure the witches staring curiously at him were any better though, and then he got his first sight of the Hagraven standing at the head of the table.

The first and most obvious thing was that she looked like no Hagraven he'd ever seen before. Dark blonde hair, silver-blue eyes that seemed to stare right into his soul, and young, she was young. Very little spare body fat, lithe and muscular under what little her Forsworn armour covered, and she had the claws and feathers all right, including taloned feet that moved like no human's ever should, but she didn't have the wrinkles. Sharp-featured, and when she smiled in delight, he could see her teeth were sharp and jagged like a slaughterfish's – but she wasn't unattractive.

“Matriarch,” his female captor gasped, dropping to her knees. “We've caught one for you. A werewolf.”

“And not just any werewolf,” the Hag purred, eyes alive with predatory glee as she glided forward, feathers fanning out and almost lifting her off the ground as they carried her forward. “You brought me a Companion! Hah, I knew if we kept stealing from the Nords long enough, they'd send one of their better ones. Bring him to my oubliette. I have plans for this one.”

She beckoned to one of the witches, who approached with a potion and a wad of cloth, pouring the potion onto the cloth. As the gag was ripped from him and the cloth settled over his face, Kodlak knew no more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When he woke up, it was dark... but there was a skylight far above him, starlight trickling in. He was naked, a heavy collar round his neck, chain shackling him to the wall – and it was solid silver with runes on it, stopping any attempt at transforming. Damn witches! 

His wrist were shackled too, pinned to the wall above his head while he was sitting on a pile of furs and straw. At least they'd thought to make him comfortable. 

A magelight blazed above him, lighting up the room and she was there. The young Hag, gloating at him in the soulless magelight that bleached the room and made her look even more demonic.

“Well now, beast,” she purred, feathers rustling as she glided over. “Welcome to your new home.”

“I am no beast,” Kodlak growled, fighting the chains. “Let me out of here, woman, if I can call you that.”

“My name is Keirine,” she said calmly, and that voice was a surprise too, low and rough but not the growls and shrieks most Hagravens used. This one seemed to have retained far more of her humanity than most. “But you will be calling me Matriarch.”

“I'll call you no such thing, witch,” Kodlak began, and Keirine's eyes flared in fury as she hissed, expertly backhanding him.

“Listen Nord, and listen well,” Keirine snarled as Kodlak blinked from the pain, his vision blurring. “You are in our hands now, a slave, you see? Our boots on your throat for a change. Whether you are going to be an abused animal or a cherished pet... well now, that depends on you.”

“I am not your pet,” Kodlak gasped, shaking his head, wishing the room would stop spinning. Keirine threw back her head and laughed, a wild cackle that echoed off the stone. 

“Too late for that, my beast,” Keirine laughed. “Listen, here is how it's going to work. You've a bed there to sleep on and a bucket over there for the slops. Once a day we'll lower a rope down for you to attach it to and get it changed. We'll deliver your food and drink that way too. In the mean time, here you stay. Alone. Forgotten. Except by me. Werewolf blood has amazing alchemical properties, you know. Normally we can only get it by hunting one and that's costly – we always lose people and they fight to the death. But to have a captive wolf, that I can farm blood from whenever I like... yes, that's something worth having.”

“Get your talons off me,” Kodlak whispered, feeling his stomach turn. The alchemical properties of beast blood – he'd never even thought about the blood that way. Keirine just grinned and ignored him as she produced an empty vial and flicked the cap off. One swipe of her claws and he yelped in pain, crying out as the warmth of his own blood trickled down his chest. Keirine held the vial to the wound, crooning softly as it filled with his life essence, finally snapping it shut and stashing it away in her belt-purse once it was done. Then he watched in horror as she leaned forward and licked the blood away, moaning in delight as she lapped his blood up. 

“Nice!” she laughed, and then Restoration magic chimed out and the wounds sealed.

“How aren't you...?” Kodlak whispered, about ready to faint. 

“How aren't I changing into a werewolf, you mean?” Keirine chuckled. She leaned forward, lips brushing against his ear.

“I'm already a beast myself, wolf. You and I, we both bartered off part of our souls in exchange for power. You sought a wolf's strength, me a raven's knowledge. I found it too, and your blood can't turn me now. We're not so very different, you and I.”

“I am nothing like you, witch,” Kodlak gasped and Keirine simply splayed her Hag's claws on his abdomen and shocked him with a lightning spell.

“Matriarch,” Keirine said calmly. “Address me properly, Nord, or punishment will follow.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Now, you take care, won't you, my beast. I'll be back when I need more from you.” She patted his face, shot him one last vicious grin, and clicked her fingers twice. First one wrist fell free then the other, but before Kodlak could lunge for her, magic flared and she disappeared.

It was only once she'd gone that Kodlak realised there was no door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Days passed. Kodlak was counting, checking the number of times that light changed to darkness in the little skylight above. As promised, food was lowered and the slops bucket changed and there were guards up there, he knew. He heard them talking to each other, but could barely hear the words. They never spoke to him no matter how he called up to them. 

The Companions would find him, wouldn't they? Wouldn't they? They knew he was coming here, Skjor, Ti'ena, the others. They'd come to look when he never came back.

Unless they thought him dead. And no matter how much they searched Hag's End, would they ever think to look down what was most likely a simple well-shaft from the outside? She'd trapped him well, that Hagraven bitch. Smart, for a Hagraven. Remarkably human, for a Hagraven. Very attractive, for a Hagraven and he had to stop himself at that point. She was a Hagraven and no decent man would ever go there.

 _What about a beast?_ Stop it, he told himself. Stop thinking about her. He was a man and a Nord and if it came to death, he'd die like one. Not pining after some filthy Hagraven. (Except she hadn't been filthy, she'd looked immaculate and not smelt foul like they usually did.)

The collar hurt. He wasn't warm enough. The food tasted bland. He was bored, bored, bored! He was aching to be free, go running through the woods and valleys, tearing into prey, ripping it asunder with tooth and claw, killing killing killing and Talos help him, was this what he was reduced to?

More than anything else he was lonely. The sole piece of furniture in this little rock cave was a simple wooden chair, barely visible in the gloom, positioned out of his reach, mocking him with its emptiness. He knew damn well who it was meant for and why. So she could take comfort when she visited – a reminder of her presence even when she was absent.

He thought about her non-stop. There wasn't a lot else to do, after all. Fantasies of claiming her, taking her, grabbing her when she got too close, pinning her down and fucking her hard, making her scream as he claimed her and holding on when she tried to teleport away, hoping she'd take him with her. 

He hated himself for it even as the seed spilled from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Been playing with yourself, have you? Filthy boy,” Keirine tutted as she stood over him. She'd materialised without warning, hit him with a paralysis spell and secured his wrists again, glancing at the stains of his seed on the stone floor. “I'm half tempted to make you clean it with your tongue, but why bother, you're the one who has to live down here.” A flick of her claws and she was siphoning blood off again, all brisk efficiency as she watched the vial fill, snapping it shut at last and healing the wound. No licking this time, in fact she looked almost bored. Putting the vial away, she waited while the spell wore off.

“You bitch,” Kodlak managed to say before her claws were around his neck, gripping hard – not quite hard enough to choke, but the tips were breaking the skin and he had no doubt she could squeeze harder if she chose.

“That is no way to speak to your Matriarch, beast,” Keirine growled. “No way at all.” She let him go, watching as he gasped for breath, rivulets of blood from where her claws had nicked him trickling down his chest. 

“This is how it is, Nord,” Keirine told him, her voice cold and furious. “I own you now. You stay here at my pleasure, fed on my orders, kept at my whim. In return for my hospitality and care, you will treat me as you should your betters. You will know your place. You will treat me with unwavering love and respect and you will obey my orders and submit to my desires. This is your world now, beast, this cave your Mundus and I – I am your sun. Please me, and I will reward you. Displease me... and the sun will go out.” She dematerialised, and the magelight winked out at the same time, leaving just the sunlight from the roof to light the place. 

Then even that was gone as some lid or other covered the light, and Kodlak was alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

He didn't know how long she'd left him like that for, arms still shackled, left in total darkness, in pain, uncomfortable, bleeding, hungry. He screamed and howled, shaking at his chains, humiliated, alone... and terrified. He'd soiled the furs already, he knew, not out of fear but need, and who knew how much longer she was keeping him like this for? And so he screamed, furious at first, cursing her name and the entire Forsworn at first, but as the hours went on and the silence and darkness closed in, he found his strength starting to fade and rage turned to pleading. _Keirine, I'm sorry, Keirine, come back, Keirine, please unchain me, Keirine bring the light back, Keirine, please..._

Still nothing, although all was quiet up there and he had a feeling she could hear him. Finally he gave in, slumping in his chains, sobbing quietly as his nerve left him and he'd do anything, anything, just to be able to move again.

“Keirine,” he gasped. “Keirine, I'm sorry. Please... please help me. Please, I need water, I need to clean myself, please...”

Still nothing, and what was she waiting for?? He was already pleading. What did she want? Information? Gold? What? Did she just enjoy watching him suffer? Well yes, probably. But she also wanted her proper title used. She wanted submission.

This was not honourable, not honourable at all, none of it was. But dying down here wouldn't get him to Sovngarde, and if he died, she'd just lure another werewolf out here in his stead. He couldn't let his Shield-Siblings end up here.

“Matriarch,” he gasped, hoping his voice still carried. “Matriarch, I'm sorry, Matriarch I need you, Matriarch, please...”

A pause and then she was there, materialising in front of him, gentle smile on her face as she crouched by his side, stroking his hair.

“That's better,” she cooed. “So much better, isn't it?” A click of her fingers and his wrists were free, his arms falling to his side as she caught him, cradling him in her arms as her healing magic flowed into him.

“Yes, Matriarch,” Kodlak whispered. “Thank you, Matriarch.”

“Good boy,” Keirine breathed, claws trailing over him but not quite breaking the skin, and the sensation made Kodlak quiver. “Now, let's get you cleaned up, shall we? Move, and I'll reclaim your bedding.”

Kodlak did so, watching as Keirine bundled it all into a sack and tied it to the rope that had appeared. Once the sack had gone, another bucket was lowered, full of water with glowing fire runes keeping it warm, and some soap as well, even a towel, all in a little bag dangling off the side.

“Clean yourself up, then the floor as well,” Keirine purred. “When you're done, pull the rope to send it all back and then you can have some decent bedding, hmm?”

“Yes, Matriarch. Thank you, Matriarch,” Kodlak whispered. Keirine smiled and dematerialised, leaving him to get on with it. As promised, once he was done, new bedding arrived and food too. Not the usual bland stew either. A bottle of ale and a meal of roast pheasant. Kodlak tore into it hungrily. It was only once he'd finished that he saw the note.

_I treat my pets well. Rest now and I will see you soon, beast. – Matriarch Keirine_

Kodlak shivered as he curled up under the furs, and whether it was from fear or anticipation, not even he was sure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next few visits were a bit of an anticlimax in the end. Keirine would come, greet him cheerfully, take his blood and then heal the wound and pat his cheek, before leaving again. The time of day seemed to vary too, at least as far as Kodlak could tell. It was maddening, to say the least. What did she want, exactly? What was she playing at? Had the rules changed again? But she wasn't punishing him, just... not really seeing him.

She was the only company he had, the sun in the darkness and she barely spoke to him. Kodlak wanted to shout at her, choke her until she gave in, but he knew if he did that, she'd leave again and for good this time. 

So instead he went another route.

“Matriarch,” he began as she watched his blood pool out into the vial. “Can I ask a question?”

“I suppose so, beast,” Keirine said absently. “I don't guarantee an answer though.”

Of course not. Keirine guaranteed nothing, Kodlak knew that – even light to see by was a luxury. Still, he could only ask.

“What do you need me for? I mean, why keep me here at all?”

“I told you, I need a blood farm,” Keirine said, closing off the vial rather irritably. “Pet, you don't need to know any more than that. I desire you to be here, so here you are. That is all you know. All you need to know.”

“I know, I know,” Kodlak said hastily. “Only... was there anything else you needed? I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to serve you better, that's all.”

Keirine did look up then, eyes wide as she slipped the vial away, amused grin on her face.

“Well now, beast, there's an offer.” She scuttled forward, sharp teeth visible as her lips parted in a smile and Talos help him, his own body betrayed him as his cock twitched at the sight. Damn the woman, she noticed too. It didn't help that Forsworn gear hid virtually nothing, breasts small but definitely there under the fur. Keirine glanced down, smirked at his half-erect cock, and then slyly back up again.

“I will think on the matter,” she told him, nudging his cheek with a knuckle. Then she kissed him once on the lips before freeing his wrists and dematerialising again. 

Kodlak raised fingers to his mouth, wondering what he'd just unleashed. He wasn't sure whether to be afraid or pleased... but he was still a Nord and still a man and he'd take whatever came. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Kodlak came to, shaking his head as he realised there'd been something in the water, something to make him drowsy, make him sleep... 

Keirine had drugged him and taken full advantage. His arms were pinioned above his head and he was on his knees, facing the wall.

“Awake, beast?” she purred, feathers rustling as she glided over, her talons clicking on the stone. 

“What did you do?” he whispered, but she just laughed. 

“Didn't want to risk you resisting, my pet. I would hate for you to get hurt now.”

He bit back the retort that came to mind, that it wasn't his injuries she should worry about, but she was standing at his back, claws tracing gently over his skin, claws that could carve him to pieces like this, and as her palms came to rest on his buttocks, claws curling around his hips, the thought occurred to him that she could easily castrate him from here. 

He closed his mouth and said nothing, just waiting as she massaged his backside.

“You have hair on your back,” she breathed, as if she'd never seen it before, and he did have some on his shoulders and at the base of his spine. It wasn't uncommon among Nord men.

“Lots of Nord men do,” Kodlak said, trying to sound casual. Keirine hummed, fascinated it seemed.

“Few Reachmen do. Most of us don't have much body hair. Most Reachmen are not quite as broad-shouldered either. You are strong, my beast.”

She leaned down and kissed him on the shoulder, then on the neck, then on the cheek, then she was sucking his earlobe, grinding her sex up against his backside and Kodlak couldn't help but moan. So long since there'd been anyone, so long and he'd never met anyone he really wanted, haunted by the memory of a lover long gone... and here was this Hagraven bitch waking it all up again. Her claws gripped his arms, her teeth were at his shoulder, dozens of sharp pinpricks sinking into his skin, tongue lapping at the blood that welled up, sucking greedily on the wound and she was essentially mounting him by this point, moaning as she thrust against him, and he was hard now, his cock standing upright, pleading for attention...and then she was letting him go, feathers rustling as she reached into her bag.

“You know what one of the few inconveniences of this form is?” Keirine said casually, only sounding a little out of breath. Kodlak shook his head.

“No, Matriarch,” he whispered. Keirine chuckled and then Kodlak went still as he felt oil strike his skin just at the base of his spine, trickling down between his buttocks and he didn't want her claws anywhere near his backside, he didn't, he didn't, he was scared... and then something hard and round was nudging at his rear end, muscles parting as something edged its way in and Kodlak cried out, rattling his chains as he bucked away... but Keirine was determined. One smack of his backside and Kodlak was still.

“Do not fuss so, beast, it is only a little plug,” Keirine hissed. “Just a little one, to get you started. Get you used to it. It cannot possibly hurt, it is well-oiled.”

It didn't, but that wasn't the point. It wasn't even the first time he'd had a woman use him like this, not since his long-vanished love of his life had introduced him to the concept, dark eyes gazing tenderly down at him as she'd used first fingers then gently slid a wooden cock inside him, soothing him with kisses as she'd fucked him. This was nothing like that, and it brought tears to his eyes to have someone do it now. Worse as he wasn't even fighting it, his cock was desperate for more.

Keirine was adjusting the angle, holding on to his shoulders for balance and moaning as she slid into place.

“A plug... with a wooden cock on the other end,” she gasped breathlessly. “One of the few things I regret about Ascending is the claws make it very difficult to... self-pleasure. And you try getting a Forsworn man into your bed after. They're terrified to even look at you. I don't want a man who's going to go to pieces before, during and after.” She leaned in and nipped at his ear, nuzzling his cheek. “That's why you are here, beast. They tell me Nords are brave. You are certainly strong. So you will do what no Reachman will dare – you will lie with a Hag, bring her pleasure, hear her screams of desire... and you will not fall apart or curl up in fear. Whether you hate me or love me, I care not... only that you endure.”

Kodlak didn't even know whether this was torture or ecstasy by this point, only that his cock was hard and throbbing with need, and he needed to be touched, damn it, needed to be pleasured, needed to be inside her, fucking her, pinning her down until she was screaming, face first into the straw while he pounded into her from behind... and here she was, fucking herself to orgasm on whatever thing she'd inserted into his backside, damn claws drawing little beads of blood wherever they touched as she clung on to him, crooning into his ear about what a good little beast he was. Then even that stopped as there were just wordless cries and long, slow thrusts as she pleasured herself at his expense. For hours this seemed to go on, just her moaning and gasping in delight while he squirmed and begged and pleaded, please Matriarch, please touch me, please let me come, please. She ignored him, just laughing as she bit him again, drinking the blood, clinging onto him as she fucked him harder, before finally crying out in one intense orgasm and collapsing on his back... then she dematerialised.

“Keirine,” he screamed. “ _Keirine!_ You can't... get back here! You can't leave me like this!”

Laughter echoing from up above, and magic sparked down, the wrist manacles unlocking as he collapsed on the bedding. Then after a few minutes, a basket lowered itself down containing a flask of water, a bottle of ale, a healing potion and a note.

_I expect that cock of mine to be licked clean with your tongue, beast. When you are done doing that, you may send it back or hang on to it and use it to train yourself with. Do the latter, and I shall know your meaning, my pet._

_Matriarch Keirine_

Kodlak drank the water, Keirine's plug still wedged firmly in his backside as he took his cock in his hands, dreaming of pinning her down and treating her as she'd done him, feeling her writhe beneath him as he forced oiled fingers into her backside and then thrust into her, taking her arse and hearing her sob from pleasure-pain as he fucked her, hearing her beg him for mercy and him showing her none, just using her as she'd used him, picturing this as he came, warm seed spurting over his hand.

The fact he'd imagined doing all this while the collar still lay around his neck never really occurred to him, nor did he realise he'd called her Matriarch as he came. He'd definitely not processed the fact the plug was still wedged in his arse, not until half an hour later when his bottom was starting to ache. He pulled it out, wiped the plug off on the furs and absently licked the cock clean as instructed... before tucking the whole thing next to him, drinking the healing potion, keeping the ale and water for later and sending the basket back without it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was several days before Keirine came for him again. In that time, she'd sent food down – seared slaughterfish, fresh snowberries, once hot toasted bread with melted cheese, all washed down with good ale. On the first morning she even sent fresh bedding down for him. No note, but the rewards said it all – she was pleased. Kodlak passed the time lying down, pleasuring himself but there was something vaguely unsatisfying now about just tossing himself off until he ejaculated. It was over too soon, a pleasure too easily obtained. But the wooden cock now... Sliding the plug in without oil to ease it hurt, of course it did... but Nords could endure. He would show her. He still didn't know if it was hate or adoration he felt for her, but he would show her what he was capable of. He would show her his strength.

When she next arrived, she didn't waste words. One paralysis spell later and she was shackling limp wrists up, lifting him up so he hung with his back to her, spreading his legs and leaving him vulnerable.

“You kept it,” she laughed, retrieving the wooden toy. “I knew you would, beast. Urges got the better of you, did they?” She placed a hand on his shoulder, warm breath on his ear as she licked the lobe.

“Listen, beast. You are here in this cave at my whim, your blood mine to take. But this... the training... this is optional. This is different. This could be stopped. If you wanted to. But you kept the toy, even when I gave you a choice. You want this.”

The spell didn't let him react, didn't let him bark an angry retort at her even as more oil dribbled down his back, and then another plug was sliding inside him, bigger this time, stretching him a little and he wanted to cry out but the damn spell wouldn't let him. 

“A bigger one, to get you used to the idea of taking instead of giving. To stretch you out and prepare you for when I stop fucking myself on you... and start fucking you properly.”

The spell slowly started to fade and Kodlak shook and roared in the chains. Not for her, not for a damn Hagraven, not something so intimate. He wanted his lover of old, not this fiend.

Except her claws curled over his shoulders as she lowered herself on to the cock, straddling his hips, sighing as she slid onto it, and it had been so long... Kodlak closed his eyes, weeping as he gave in, let her do what she wanted, his own body betraying him as his cock stood erect at the mere thought of hers in his arse, using him and filling him and...

“Beast,” she whispered, her teeth finding his shoulder again, blood trickling down his back as she lapped it up. “Beloved, beautiful beast, I can't wait to fuck you.”

Kodlak couldn't help but moan, and this was wrong, everything about this was wrong, it was humiliating, shameful, not something he could ever even talk about never mind tell stories of at Jorrvaskr. No one would raise a flagon in his name to this – Kodlak Whitemane, he who got fucked by a Hagraven... and liked it. 

Tears in his eyes as he yielded, sobbing as he begged her for release even as she found hers, but no mercy from her, there never was. Just the throbbing in his backside from the plug shoving him apart and the biting and the blood and the inhuman cries and sighs that were coming from her as she used and abused him again and again.

Finally she collapsed, head resting on his shoulder, clearly spent, just kissing the bitemark tenderly.

“Beast,” she whispered. “Precious beast. I knew you'd be good, I just knew it.”

“Matriarch,” Kodlak whispered, mind on his aching cock, desperate for someone to touch it, no, desperate for her to touch it, even if it meant those flesh-rending claws curling around the shaft or that pretty little mouth with its razor-sharp teeth that could bite his cock off setting to work on him. “Matriarch, please...”

“Oh, do you want to come, pet?” Keirine whispered, sounding deceptively innocent. Kodlak nodded, although something in her tone was giving him pause. Keirine smiled and reached for his cock – and a torrent of ice magic ghosted over him, killing the erection instantly. Kodlak screamed even as Restoration magic followed.

“Tsk, don't cry, that was barely a fraction of my full power,” Keirine murmured. “Your precious cock is safe, beast.” She slipped away, and took the wooden toy with her, stashing it away in the pack she'd brought. Then she was holding his limp penis in her hand, laying it gently on a little silver web – and with a click of her fingers, the web had bound it tightly – not so tightly as to hurt or cut off blood flow but enough to hold it tight... and enough to make getting an erection impossible.

“What have you done?” Kodlak gasped, tears in his eyes.

“To be trained properly, you need to think not of your own throbbing member but of your Matriarch's needs,” Keirine told him, amusement in those silvery eyes of hers. “You will be allowed to get hard when I wish you to and at no other time, and your days of playing with yourself are done. You will learn to associate pleasure not with your cock going off, but with me taking my pleasure. You are my beast, and that means your urges will be under my control from now on. Is that clear, beast?”

Kodlak hung his head and surrendered, torn between warring emotions. The bitch had taken away his one true pleasure here... but already he was writhing at the thought of all the new pleasures she promised. Stelmaria had said similar things once, complaining men never could seem to get beyond their cocks and the needs thereof, and never seemed to think of anything else.

Looks like Keirine was following through. Once she was sure his cock was secure, she finally freed his wrists, left him a basket with water, ale and healing potions and disappeared.

Well, at least she was providing ale. There was something to be said for that. Kodlak drank the bottle dry, before curling up on the bedding, never having felt so helpless. Home had never felt so far away and he longed for Jorrvaskr, trying to picture his Shield-Siblings' faces.

But all he could think of was Keirine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few encounters were all the same pattern. She'd shackle him up, oil him, plug him and fuck herself to pleasure on the other end, feathers fluttering as they took her weight, teeth sinking gleefully into the flesh of his shoulder, and despite the healing potions, Kodlak could feel the wound, knew there'd be a scar there forevermore. She said very little to him outside the act though, just crooning what a good beast he was, how fierce, how wild, how she loved having such a strong man at her mercy. And all the while his cock was chained up, unable to rise, unable to do anything and all he could do was struggle in the chains, shouting and screaming in wordless fury. 

She liked that even more. And the really humiliating thing wasn't that she was using and violating him, it was that he _couldn't get off_. The arousal was there, throbbing into his loins, his cock warm and pulsing, trying to rise but prevented and the blood was pooling in his buttocks instead, arse clenching around the plug, bigger each time now, feeling like it was splitting him almost in two and yet he was spreading his legs, leaning into it, craving the sensation of fullness even though he couldn't come.

She did though, claiming pleasure from him over and over again, cackling as he cried her name, aroused beyond all measure and yet not hard and he couldn't cope with this, he just couldn't. It was almost a relief when she finally slid off, removing the plug and putting a healing potion to his lips. Then water. Then ale, sweet sweet ale and she took a swig herself after he'd drunk. Releasing his wrists, she caught him as he slumped, stroking his hair as he collapsed into her arms, head in her lap, able to smell her sex from here, hidden once more under Forsworn fur, but he knew if he tried anything, those claws would rend him apart. She'd already rendered his cock useless, made it clear she had no interest in it at all. Tearing it off him as a punishment wasn't something she'd likely shrink from.

“I think you are nearly ready, beast,” Keirine whispered. “Each time, you're that bit easier to plug. Chaining your cock was the right idea too, I could feel you changing. You're learning, you're becoming acclimatised. My pleasure, not yours. Although you're getting some, aren't you? You're learning to love being penetrated.”

“Yes, Matriarch,” Kodlak admitted, although what he really wanted was to rut and rut hard, feeling friction against his cock until he finally came and could rest properly. The disturbing thing though was that he no longer wanted Keirine under him, begging him for mercy while he ploughed her orifices. He wanted to be on his knees, prostrate, cock rubbing into the fur while Keirine's wooden toys stretched him to the limit and filled him while her claws gripped his arms. He could already see little pinprick scars on his upper arms where she'd done that before and he shivered every time he saw them. Partly from fear, and partly from the delicious shivers that remembering how he got them gave him. 

“I think it's time we stepped up your training, beast,” Keirine said calmly. “I'm going to leave you oil and a mid-sized plug. When you're not moving your bowels, you wear it. Get used to having it in you, understand? And when you're asleep, wear the smaller one.”

“Yes, Matriarch,” Kodlak whispered, still tingling, still aroused, still unfulfilled and needing something, anything and if she wanted it, he'd do it. 

“Good boy,” Keirine breathed, smiling as she kissed his face. “And to motivate you, another little gift.” She reached into her pack and produced a thick wooden cock with a harness attached, letting Kodlak get a good look at it, even letting him hold and touch it. 

“This is what I will fuck you with, my beast,” she murmured as he ran hands over it. It was a solid piece of carving, realistically detailed, heavy – and thick. A good seven inches long and not quite two inches in diameter if he was any judge, and the thought of that sliding inside him terrified him... even as it thrilled.

“I can't,” Kodlak whispered. “It's too big, it'll hurt me, I can't, Matriarch, I can't!”

“You can,” Keirine murmured gently, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead, all tenderness now. “You can do this, beast, you are strong, you are brave, you are a fearless Nordman and you can master this. That is why we are training you, we are making you stronger, better. That is why you will be plugged and oiled at all times, why your cock is chained so you will crave the fullness and not fight it. I do this to make you stronger, beast. I do this so you can best this foe like you have so many others. So that you can please me better as a result. You can do this and you will, and I will leave it on the chair so you can see your goal at all times.”

Spoken like a trainer of warriors, and Kodlak couldn't help but think of Askar, Hreya, Jergen, so many others he'd fought with over the years. Couldn't help but think of his lost Stelmaria, an Imperial half his size but fiercer than most men he knew, taming him and bringing him to heel, teaching him how to truly please and care for a woman, introducing him to this very thing... but she'd had her limits and he'd known she loved him. Keirine was nothing like that, she was evil and twisted and in possession of dark magics Kodlak couldn't even begin to comprehend, and he feared her like he'd never feared Stelmaria. Feared what she might do – feared what she'd already done. He'd lost count of the days long ago, given up escape plans long ago, given up all thought of anything other than surviving... which meant pleasing her. Meant treating her like the goddess she'd claimed to be. She'd spoken truly before. This cave was his world now and she was the sun he couldn't help but orbit. 

So he bowed and gave in, and watched while she laid the terrifying phallus on the chair, then stood over him expectantly, watching while he oiled himself and slid the bigger of the two plugs she'd left with him into his backside.

“Good boy,” she'd said proudly, claws trailing along his face and he just smiled and nodded, seeing talons, teeth, claws and feathers and he should be afraid or revolted but he wasn't. Because he loved the feeling of those dangerous claws gripping his flesh with just enough strength to not damage him, loved those teeth biting him and drawing blood... and underneath all that, there were breasts and a cunt like any other woman's and he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever see them. He'd never even seen her come, he'd always had his back to her.

Maybe if he was good and obedient, he'd at least get to see her while she fucked him. Perhaps.

“Goodbye beast. I'll be here to check on you soon enough. In the mean time, rest.” 

“Goodbye, Matriarch,” he whispered as she disappeared. Leaving him alone with a throbbing backside, a useless cock and a craving laced with terror that he couldn't get out of his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The visits seemed to increase after that, and she didn't shackle him any more either, just deciding the collar chained to the wall was enough. No taking of her own pleasure either. She had him on hands and knees, inspecting his backside, hands ghosting over his buttocks and she crooned in approval on seeing the plug in place. It didn't even hurt after a while. Amazing what he could get used to.

This time she'd take the plug out and dribble more oil on to him, before reaching for a bigger one she'd brought with her, sliding it in and slowly, gently but oh so tantalisingly sliding it in and out, her breath catching as she watched it enter him.

“Like that?” she rasped, seeming to enjoy watching him more than she'd enjoyed fucking him.

“Yes, Matriarch,” Kodlak gasped, head resting on his arms as he yielded, letting her take what she wanted, and by the Nine it felt good, so good. Not having to worry any more, nothing mattering any more, just him and her and letting her look after him. It didn't even hurt that much any more, and he'd got used to the sensation of arousal without an erection now, got used to blood flowing to his backside instead, and she was right, what he wanted was attention there instead, bottom opening up without resistance, grinding back into her as she pumped away with the plug, other arm around his waist as she lay along his back, nipping at him and running her tongue along his flesh. She was enjoying this too, her breath aroused and ragged and that turned him on too, Keirine wanting him, Keirine taking delight in him, Keirine's attention on him for once. 

“Harder,” he gasped. “Harder, Matriarch, I'm not made of glass. Oh gods yes, please!” She'd shoved the plug into him even more fiercely and while it was stretching him out, it wasn't deep enough, it wasn't filling him, he needed more, damn it! 

“No, you are not, are you,” Keirine gasped. “You're really taking it. I'm impressed, beast.”

“Your beast,” Kodlak heard himself whisper. “Please, Matriarch, please claim me, please, I need it...”

Delighted cackle and then a stinging slap on his behind, claws slicing into his skin. Kodlak cried out in pain, but the arousal didn't diminish at all, quite the reverse.

“You little _slut!_ ” Keirine giggled, sounding quite intoxicated. “My, but this is delicious, a big Nord warrior on his knees for me, arse in the air, pleading with me to fuck him good and fuck him hard, treat him like the filthy beast he is.” 

Kodlak whimpered, thrusting his backside at her, desperately horny and desperate to come, almost there, almost on the verge of an orgasm more intense than he'd ever known, needing the penetration, needing _her_ , hoping she'd take the hint and mount him, dominate him, use him without pause and without mercy. She was already leaning over to whisper in his ear.

“I do believe you're almost ready,” she breathed, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back to see him better. Kodlak stared up at her, sharp but still pretty features lined in the shadow of the lamp she'd brought, those silver eyes so unlike the usual pits of inky darkness most Hagravens had, his blood dripping from her lips, at least until she licked the drops up. Then she'd darted forward, claiming his mouth in a passionate kiss, tongue meeting his, and he opened his mouth, greedily kissing her back, managing not to cut his tongue on those teeth of hers, gods he loved the teeth, loved feeling them sink into his flesh, not deep enough to rend it from bone, but enough to draw blood and it was intoxicating, knowing he was at the mercy of someone strong enough to rip him apart if she wanted... and she was holding back so as not to damage him. It was almost more than he could handle, and he wanted to please her so very much.

She broke the kiss, hand cupping his cheek as she backed off.

“Next time,” she breathed. “Next time I'll fuck you. I promise.” One last kiss and then she vanished, leaving him collapsed on the straw, horny, frustrated, wanting... and waiting. Next time... next time he'd be ready.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

This time it was different. This time a ritual, of sorts. This time, Keirine picked the phallus up from her chair and settled down in it, beckoning him forwards. He crawled over, as far as the chain shackling him to the wall would allow anyway, and knelt before her. His eyes couldn't help but leave those taloned feet, human flesh but the shape was wrong, one dew claw at the back and three talons sprouting from the front. How she walked properly on them was a mystery, but he assumed it didn't hurt. She did seem to use the feathers to balance, maybe that helped. But his mind was wandering.

“Matriarch,” he said quietly. She was stroking the phallus, watching him closely, although he didn't dare meet her eyes.

“You were looking at my feet, beast,” Keirine noted, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Like them, do you?”

“I've never seen anything like them before,” Kodlak confessed. Well, that was true anyway. Keirine laughed.

“Well put, pet.” Her eyes narrowed and her voice hardened. “Kiss them.”

Kodlak closed his eyes and obeyed, planting lips to the bony flesh, and while they felt harder than a human woman's, they didn't smell. Clearly this was one Hag who valued keeping clean. He was glad of that at least. 

Keirine actually shivered, and that couldn't help but make him aroused. She wasn't just doing this for amusement, she was getting off on it... and that he liked. 

“Now kiss the cock,” she hissed, holding the tip out of him. Kodlak closed his eyes and did as asked, lowering his lips to the head of it and kissing it reverently. Keirine let out a little sound of triumph, one claw trailing over his cheek.

“Open wide,” she murmured, and Kodlak knew then what was coming next but he obeyed anyway. Partly out of fear... and partly because no true Nord showed weakness either in battle or in bed. Submitting sexually didn't make you weak, he knew that... but being timid about it, that was another story. He opened his mouth, gasping as Keirine thrust the phallus into his mouth, claws cupping the back of his head as she pushed him onto it, gently but firmly starting to thrust. Kodlak knelt, steadying himself with hands on the floor, closing his eyes as he sucked on the cock, enduring what he must... and in giving in, feeling a sense of peace descend. All he had to do was yield to her, it was quite simple. Yield, make her happy, and all would be well. 

She certainly sounded pleased, crooning over him, little gasps of pleasure escaping her mouth as she watched him suck her toy. Kodlak risked a glance up, shivering as he saw her, gazing down at him with her mouth open and those jagged teeth just visible behind her lips, her eyes heavy-lidded with lust. By the Nine, he was doomed for even thinking this, but he wanted her. Craved her. Needed her. He closed his eyes and sucked harder.

“Oh yes, yes, my beautiful beast, yes,” Keirine moaned softly, thrusting a few more times before grasping his hair and pulling his head back, pulling the cock away, palm skimming over the top of his head.

“Good boy,” she breathed and Kodlak shivered, fighting the urge to lunge for her, pull her into his arms, even if he couldn't fuck her he could at least kiss her, touch her, bring an orgasm out of her, have her falling apart at his touch for once. 

“Matriarch,” he whispered. “Matriarch, do you need anything else?”

“Beast,” she purred, hand still stroking the back of his head. “You're going to give me everything tonight. What more would I need?”

“My lips on your cunt.” The words were out before he could stop himself and Keirine's eyebrows had shot up. She seemed almost lost for words, but she was mistress of herself enough to recover fast.

“You've yet to earn that honour, beast.”

“I know,” Kodlak said, submissive on the outside but inside thinking of what lay under the fur, of how she'd taste, how she'd smell. “But I don't think my unworthiness should stop you enjoying yourself... if that's what you want. You did say it's difficult to take care of such matters yourself these days.”

“You're a clever one,” Keirine said, her voice sounding harsher than usual. “All right. This once, just so you've had a taste.” She inched the chair forward and parted her legs and was it Kodlak's imagination or did she seem a bit apprehensive? 

He crawled closer and lifted the fur skirt of her Forsworn gear, leaning in to get a good look, gently kissing the inside of her thighs as he did.

Keirine shuddered, a little whimper escaping her lips, and Kodlak reached for the dark grey curls surrounding her sex. He was relieved to see it was little different from anyone else's, but there was something about the hair. It didn't match that on her head and he didn't think she dyed it. He looked closer... and realised it wasn't hair at all, it was soft downy feathers.

“You've got feathers down there too?”

Keirine grabbed his hair and yanked it, not too hard but enough to indicate displeasure. 

“Yes. Virtually all my body hair from my neck downwards turned into feathers, or I lost the hair. A small price to pay, Reachwomen do not have much anyway. Now are you going to stop complaining and get on with it, or shall we get to the main event?”

“Matriarch,” Kodlak murmured and lowered his lips to her clitoris. Keirine actually cried out and for a moment he wondered if he'd hurt her – but that couldn't possibly have hurt and she'd not asked him to stop. So he continued, closing his eyes and kissing her, licking her, sliding a finger inside her, listening to the sounds she was making. She was gripping the arms of the chair, gasping and moaning and while she was undeniably aroused, she seemed... tense. Nervous even, if Hags ever got nervous, which Kodlak didn't think was possible.

“Matriarch?” he whispered risking a glance up. She had her eyes closed, teeth gritted, and now he could tell something was up.

“Did I tell you to stop?” she hissed. Well, he'd take that as consent. He leaned back in and continued, closing his eyes and losing himself in her, feeling the tension in her ease a little, tasting her, feeling her warmth and wetness, and he was pleased to note she didn't feel or taste that different from anyone else. She was still clinging on to the chair arms, her back arching as she cried out, sounding different to when she'd claimed him, less triumphant, less controlled, almost fearful... but she still wasn't stopping him. He arched his fingers just so, reaching deep inside her, taking her clit into his mouth and Keirine howled in pleasure, throwing her head back as she came. She finally sank back into the chair, head bowed, and Kodlak kissed her mound one last time before re-arranging her clothes (that she'd not bothered with underwear didn't really surprise him by this point) and sitting back, watching her recover herself. Her face was flushed red and her hair was hanging down around her so he couldn't see her eyes... but when she finally did look up, she looked haunted.

“What... why... what did you do??” Fury transformed her face as she lunged for him, hands slipping around his neck as her face twisted into a snarl. “What did you just do??”

“Were you displeased, Matriarch?” he asked, determined not to show fear, although he felt it. Always before she'd been in control, predictable, there'd been rules. Now she was anything but controlled and he had a feeling the game had just changed, but he didn't know how.

“No! No... I...” She let him go, sitting back down, and now she just looked confused.

“You enjoyed that,” she whispered. “You wanted to do that. You liked pleasing me.”

Kodlak nodded, still not sure where this was going. She wasn't what he'd have chosen, none of this was what he'd have chosen... but he'd been lonely a long time and he had needs. Needs she was actually fulfilling quite well, and that was a surprise.

“Why?” Keirine whispered. “Why would you possibly enjoy this?” She sounded devastated and Kodlak risked a look up. She was staring at him, stunned and with tears in her eyes and Talos help him, he really shouldn't want to pull a Hagraven into his arms and start comforting her. Except he did.

“You're the first person to touch me intimately in years and you're good at it. Terrifying, but good at it,” Kodlak admitted. “Why wouldn't I?” And there it was, the secret out, that Kodlak Whitemane secretly liked being abused and ill-treated by his lovers, liked the pain, liked proving he could take it. There was no dishonour or shame in submitting to a stronger lover, and Kodlak had always found strength attractive. Keirine certainly had that.

She was presently staring at him as if unsure whether to be outraged or burst into tears.

“You were not... you were not supposed to want it!” she howled. “You weren't supposed to want me! The whole reason I became a Hag in the first place was so men wouldn't look at me like that any more!” She was glaring at him and underneath the rage, she actually looked hurt. No, not hurt... _betrayed._

Kodlak really had no idea what was going on here any more, but he wagered there weren't many men who'd find a Hagraven attractive. She'd been a beauty before, he was sure of that. There was still enough left of the woman she'd been to show that. So she wasn't human any more? Nor was he. And he still liked dangerous women.

“It hasn't worked, Matriarch,” he said quietly. “Or rather, your plan in capturing me worked too well. You wanted to be the sun in my darkness. Congratulations, you did it. I wanted you the moment I first saw you and now I can't stop thinking about you.”

Keirine had gone very still, looking at him kneeling in submission and realising she'd never taught him or told him to do that.

“This is not the first time a woman has controlled you, is it,” she said softly. “You have yielded to a mistress before, haven't you.”

No point denying it at this point. Kodlak nodded. Keirine kept staring at him, slowly shaking her head. 

“Damn you,” she whispered. “Damn you to Oblivion and back.”

“It was a long time ago,” Kodlak said, hoping it wasn't jealousy causing this. He didn't think so but... “I've not seen her in two decades. Wouldn't know where to start looking, not after all this time.”

“But you loved her and wanted her,” Keirine said, claws tapping the chair. Kodlak nodded, not daring to meet her eyes at this point. He didn't think she'd attack him, not now, but she was clearly rattled by this whole thing. Why though, that was the question. She'd turned Hag to stop men wanting her, so she'd clearly devised this as a way to get sexual satisfaction without the man in question wanting her back. Why go to all that trouble? And what stopped her wanting male attention if she wanted men as partners rather than women?

The wrong kind of male attention, was the obvious answer to that. Asking outright was the quick way to an undignified death, he was sure, but at the same time, he wanted to know. Wanted to know what had happened, who'd hurt her in the past... and if there was any way he could honourably take revenge for her. He couldn't ask, not yet... but he could ask something else.

“Keirine, can I ask why?” Kodlak asked, still watching her and wishing he could have this conversation with her nestled in his arms. She was warm and tasted amazing and damn it, after twenty years pining over Stelmaria, he was entitled to someone warming his bed again, surely? Even if she was a Hagraven. “Why you took me prisoner in the first place. It can't just be the blood, you've not taken any for the last few visits.”

Keirine wasn't even looking at him at this point, just gazing at the floor, looking defeated. 

“Why would you care, Nord?” she snapped bitterly, and Kodlak had the feeling it had been one of his own kinsmen who'd been responsible. Didn't excuse everything the Forsworn had done, of course, but he knew the Nords hadn't been kind to them either and some things were dishonourable regardless.

“You're my Matriarch, why wouldn't I?” Kodlak shrugged, keeping his tone deliberately lighthearted. The key to getting out of here had always been to manipulate Keirine, but now he was finding his priorities... changed. Now he really did just want her to stop looking so sad. He'd rather have the gloating sadist back.

“Don't lie to me, Companion,” Keirine snapped. “The Forsworn may venerate us, but no one else cares about Hagravens, not unless they're looking to become one. You surely are not.”

“You were a woman once and you still are,” Kodlak replied, keeping his voice soft and low so as not to anger or upset her. “Underneath all that, you're still that Reachwoman you once were. Why wouldn't I come to care for you?”

Keirine shook her head and Kodlak saw to his horror that there were tears in her eyes.

“You were not supposed to still be so human, my beast,” she whispered. “You were meant to be a wild animal, there to service me, making amends for all your kin have done to me. I left you light to see by, a portal to the sky, did not make you do manual labour, you had it better than those the Nords capture. But you were my chained beast nonetheless. Now you're not and I...” She got up, reaching for her bag, tossing him a bottle of mead, good mead too, Black-Briar in fact. 

“I need to go,” Keirine said, rubbing at her eyes and studiously not looking at him. “I – I don't know... I need to think.”

“Keirine?” Kodlak said, alarmed. That was not what he wanted to hear and in this mood, she might decide never to come back, leaving him here to die, alone in the darkness. “Keirine, wait!”

Too late. She was gone, leaving Kodlak alone. The magelight she'd left still blazed, lighting the little cell... but his Matriarch was gone. If she still was his Matriarch, that was.

Huddling on the furs, Kodlak pulled a pelt over himself and closed his eyes, worry consuming him. Partly the fear she'd abandon him here... but mostly it was worry about her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The food still came. The slops were taken. A washbucket still came every day. Fresh bedding every so often. Keirine had not forgotten... but she was not visiting either. 

Kodlak missed her. The sun in his darkness, his fiery witch, not here and that bothered him. Why keep him here and not visit him? Why?

 _Who are you, Keirine? Who were you, before you turned Hag, what was your story?_ Why did she look so young in comparison to other Hagravens, why so much more human, how had she done it? He had a feeling that if he could find out all this, he'd know what she wanted from him.

Then one day he woke up to find her kneeling next to him, stroking his hair and actually smiling.

“You're awake!” she whispered. Kodlak nodded, rubbing his eyes.

“How long have you been there?” he asked, blinking in the magelight. 

“Not long,” she purred. “Beast, beast, I brought water, your hair is getting long, so is your beard! Should I get you a razor?”

“When it gets past my nipples, trim it, otherwise leave it,” Kodlak said with a shrug. He'd always kept his beard relatively short before, but there was something to be said for having it this length. A reminder he'd not got the freedom to shave like he used to. “Unless you'd prefer a clean shaven man.”

“No!” Keirine laughed as she brought forward a bucket of gently steaming water, a fire rune glowing on the inside. Kodlak had never thought of runes that way before, he'd always seen them as those blasted magey tricks that blew up just when you were getting close to the enemy. He'd never seen them used in a domestic setting before. 

“Here, beast, roll over and lie back,” Keirine murmured, and Kodlak obliged as she sliced the ties on his braids loose, unwinding his hair and sliding claws that seemed shorter and blunter than he remembered through his locks, using water to soften the knots and some sort of potion that seemed to detangle them. Kodlak sighed as she massaged his scalp, soaking his head in blissfully warm water then working that alchemical potion all the way through, crooning as she did so, then dunking him back in again to wash it all out. Then the same with his beard, then brushing it all out, the strokes of the brush soothing in their rhythm.

“I should leave you a hairbrush, let you do this for yourself, pet,” Keirine murmured. “There, you are looking tamer. Now lie on your front, your muscles need tending to.”

Oil poured over him, and then Keirine's fingers worked him over, claws only digging in a little and yes, she'd definitely trimmed and blunted them.

“Your claws, Matriarch,” Kodlak said, wondering why she'd done that. “They're not as sharp.”

“They are as sharp as they need to be,” Keirine murmured. “When I hurt you, I would have it be intentional.”

Kodlak groaned into the bedding as she kept on massaging him, writhing and grinding his cock into the straw and silently cursing how little it did to relieve him. Nothing, barely any sensation, not a flicker of arousal – not there anyway. It was all going to his backside, buttocks surely a flaming red as he clenched and unclenched them, and Talos but he needed her to touch him, needed something, anything. Keirine just crooned over him, keeping on massaging him until he could barely move, he was so relaxed. He closed his eyes, limp but exhilarated and barely paid attention to the spell flaring. His eyes shot open though when she parted his legs and climbed in between them, clearly adjusting something, and then more oil was being rubbed into his lower back, then into his buttocks, then dribbled between his cleft, and then she was plucking the plug out of him.

“You still kept yourself plugged and oiled,” she said fondly. “My good little beast.”

Kodlak nodded, whimpering. Of course he had. Stopping would have meant admitting she wasn't coming back. 

Keirine dribbled more oil into his cleft, and then a finger was slowly inserted into his backside, then another, moving very gently and very deliberately.

“I could not do this before,” Keirine murmured. “Loss of the claws is a small price to pay, beast. Do not worry, they grow back. But for this, I would not wish to injure you.”

“You're too kind, Matriarch,” Kodlak whispered, barely able to speak as he arched up into her, letting her explore and stretch him and by the Nine, it had been just too long. He should have found another lover years ago, Stelmaria clearly was never coming to find him. Hadn't he spent twenty years making a name for himself as a Companion across Skyrim so she'd know where to look if she ever came to his homeland? She never had, it seemed. 

Now here he was, a Forsworn prisoner, and his captor seemed to know exactly how to pleasure him, was driving him to limits he'd not even known he had, and all he wanted was for her to go further. 

“Do you want this,” Keirine breathed in his ear. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Kodlak whimpered, eyes shut as he shivered in anticipation. “Yes please.”

“So do I,” Keirine gasped, withdrawing her hand and then he felt it, nudging at his backside, the cock she'd left on display all this time working its way in, stretching and nudging slowly, oh so slowly and it only hurt a little, the oil smoothing its way. Keirine was leaning over him, gripping his upper arms, gasping and sighing as she sank in deeper, and then she was in, sheathed inside him, moaning as she sank forward, resting her weight on her forearms.

“You're mine now,” she breathed, seeming hardly able to believe it. “You've yielded. I can have you if I want. However I want. You won't resist me.”

“No,” Kodlak heard himself sob. “Never, Matriarch.” He was full, stretched to the limit, powerless, helpless, utterly humbled and by the Nine, it was a good thing his Shield-Siblings didn't know where he was. He was being fucked by a Hagraven, and liking it... needing it. 

She'd let out a little sob of her own on hearing him speak and she was slowly withdrawing... then in again, in and out, each time that little bit harder as his body acclimatised and his arousal finally found an outlet. Finally he could feel an orgasm building, but not in his cock, no. All around his backside, all over his lower body as he bucked into her, desperate for more. Keirine could feel it too, gasping “yes, yes, you can feel it, like a woman feels it, isn't that right, pet?” and he'd nodded, not knowing if this actually was how women felt but knowing he liked it regardless.

“Give in,” Keirine whispered. “Give in, let it take you, yes my beast, yesss...” Kodlak bucked and cried out, arching his back as she sank in to him, bucking towards her while she pulled out, and then she started to speed up, sinking into him but not withdrawing much, just thrusting, thrusting, thrusting, and Kodlak could feel the pressure building.

“I'm not stopping until you come, bwystfilma,” she whispered and while the word probably was part of the Forsworn tongue, he could guess what it meant. Could guess what her lapsing into the Reach-tongue meant too. Kodlak cried and gasped, sobbing as the pleasure finally peaked and he could hold on no longer. Letting go, he let the orgasm take him, one not coupled to ejaculation any more but just sheer pleasure racking his body as he cried Keirine's name over and over again until finally he was too worn out to move, collapsing in a heap on the straw.

Keirine had held on to him while he'd come, thrusting and crying out herself, and was now lying on top of him, equally exhausted from the sounds of it. For a while, neither moved, until finally Keirine carefully withdrew, putting the cock away in her pack after cleaning it and Kodlak up with cloths, then returning to him.

To his surprise, the next thing she did was detach the chain from his collar, before nudging at his side for him to roll over. He did, blinking as she slid on the straw heap next to him, passing him a bottle of Maven's finest, and taking a swig of her own mead.

“My brother would have a fit if he heard me say this, but this Black-Briar stuff is extremely drinkable,” she murmured, grinning up at him. “It is such a relief to have booze that does not taste of juniper for once.”

“You have a brother?” Kodlak asked, surprised. He'd not really considered that she'd have kin out there, human kin, but she was young for a Hag, he supposed she must have. “Where is he? He's a Forsworn warrior, I take it.”

“Warrior?” Keirine scoffed. “ _Warrior??_ He is more than a mere warrior, my beast. He is as gifted a spellcaster as I am, almost. I taught him many things, you know. Things men were never traditionally supposed to learn, but my brother has never been terribly traditional. His wife gave him only daughters, and how did he react? By deciding gender roles were pointless anyway, and he was going to learn the secrets of witches while his daughters would be the most powerful warriors the Reach had ever seen. That is my brother for you, always with the big dreams.” She lowered her eyes, smile fading. “I miss him.”

“What happened?” Kodlak asked, tentatively putting an arm round her and inwardly thrilling as she nestled closer, resting her head on his chest. She'd used present tense so he was still alive... but beyond her reach, it seemed. “Where is he?”

“You people took him,” Keirine whispered, harsh anger creeping back in. “He's in Cidhna Mine. Mining silver, trapped underground, the sky taken from him – how can you people be so cruel, even in my harshness, I left you the sky!” 

It was true and he'd been glad of it, a way to count the days. Even rain through the slats had been a welcome link to the world outside, a sign he wasn't entirely cut off. To shut a man away entirely... his kinsmen in Markarth were cruel. No wonder the natives had rebelled.

“I'm sorry,” he told her, pulling her closer. “When is he getting out?” The wrong thing to ask and he realised why when Keirine choked back another sob.

“Never,” she said quietly. “He is in there for life. They caught him last year - he was lucky to escape execution. But he lives at least, and he's been able to write to me. He says not to worry, he will get out of there one day if he has to wait twenty years. Not to worry! Easy for him to say!”

“You were close,” Kodlak said, wondering if she'd reveal anything else. He was already wondering about the brother – clearly one of Madanach's high command, slung in there alongside his king.

“We're twins,” Keirine whispered, and Kodlak felt his heart go out to her. He knew what it was like for twins – didn't Farkas and Vilkas seem to be able to read each other's minds at times? Now here was Keirine with hers stripped away from her and shut away by the Nords.

No wonder she'd wanted to take a Nord captive and punish them. Except it probably hadn't worked out how she'd planned. He imagined she'd not expected him to like it.

“That's why you took me captive,” he said quietly. “Revenge for your brother.” And if it was... Talos help him, if her brother was in for life, he might never see the sun again. That thought made him restless and he tightened his grip on her, fighting back a feeling of panic. He couldn't live down here for the rest of his life, he needed to be free, needed the sky, the trees, the mountains, Skyrim! 

But he also knew that he'd miss her if he got out. Miss this, the sex that was pleasure and pain and everything in between. Miss holding her afterwards and seeing a Hagraven, a Matriarch of the Forsworn no less, quiet and vulnerable.

“Yes and no,” Keirine was saying, sounding as if she was debating what to tell him. “Mostly yes, and I did need some beast blood – but only a little. But I also wanted my keteen, my compensation, for me.”

“What for?” Kodlak whispered and here it was, the secret, he could tell. What had the Nords done to her? “What happened?”

Silence for a while, and Kodlak wondered if she'd actually tell him or if she'd prefer to keep it quiet. But if she was holding him in revenge for a wrong done to her, he at least deserved to know what it was.

“I was not born on a Forsworn camp,” she said at length. “My brother and I, we were born in Markarth, to a humble Reachman called Caradach ap Cordell, a smelter-worker with an interesting hobby – he was fascinated by the old ways. There were no Forsworn as such back then – there were wild hill tribes who resisted civilisation and kept the old ways, but they were not looking to overthrow the Nords. They were waiting for a king to return, for Red Eagle to rise again and lead them. It never occurred to any of them to start the rebellion without him. So in the leaner times when the Nords laid off smelter-workers, Caradach would often visit them, learning the language, recording customs, writing down stories. Each tribe was different, each one fascinating, and Caradach recorded it all. Our mother Mirela thought he was mad, but she put up with it and went with him on his journeys. Then she became pregnant and they stayed in Markarth, in their little room in the Warrens, him doing whatever odd job he could find to feed them both. But it was twins and it was her first labour, and while a Hag midwife could have saved her, there was no such care to be had in the Warrens. She died, and it was feared her babies would die too – but Caradach knew enough traditional Reach-lore to save his children. Even when one was so much smaller and weaker than the other and everyone said it would die and to focus on the older one, he would not give up. And it worked. We lived.”

Kodlak held her tighter, glad beyond all reason that she'd survived, that her father had taken care of her.

“He must have loved you dearly. A lot of men might have let a daughter die to save their only son.”

Keirine looked up, confused, and then a grin split her face and she began to giggle.

“You think – you thought – oh, you are such a Nord sometimes. You thought I was the younger one, likely to die! Ha! Oh that is funny. Very very funny, although my brother would not think so. No, no, I was the firstborn, the healthier of the two. My younger twin, he nearly died. You wouldn't think so to see him now, but he was frail as a young child. I was the fighter, he the quiet scholarly type who preferred books to rough and tumble with the other boys. All our childhood, I took care of him. Protected him. Loved him. He wasn't always terribly grateful, but he cared about me too. Then we grew up and it all changed. Our own bodies betrayed us.”

“How so,” Kodlak whispered, although he could guess. Keirine wasn't looking at him, just nestling into his chest.

“The scholar-child got the body of a warrior. The fighter ended up looking like a priestess of Dibella,” Keirine said bitterly. “Suddenly I was the one who needed protecting, and he had no real idea how but he tried his best. Against the other boys, he succeeded. Against Thalric Silver-Blood, he had no chance.”

“Thalric took you prisoner,” Kodlak said quietly, and he remembered the story now, how Thalric had had a Reachwoman mistress who'd seduced him away from his wife and then turned out to be a Forsworn agent who'd killed him and fled the city. A very early Forsworn incident, the declaration of war as it were, although it had been another decade before things had really kicked off. Kodlak knew the story – but he was beginning to think possibly not as well as he'd thought. “Did your father not stop him?”

“Initially, yes, he objected when Thalric tried to take me away. He got laid off and he started making plans to head out to the camps again, having quiet conversations with us about how to find a Forsworn camp, how to get accepted in, that if anything happened to him before we could leave, we were both to take everything and run. He was prescient about that at least – a week later, the day before we were due to slip out, there was an incident. A fight – staged of course, some mercenary claiming Da owed him money. There was a brawl, but Da was no brawler. The mercenaries pulled swords out and killed him. The Jarl ruled it an accident, witnesses claimed they'd seen Da use magic first. A lie but Silver-Blood money talked.” Keirine shook her head, feathers fluttering a little as blunted claws curved into Kodlak's skin. “Before my father was even cold, Thalric was dragging me off to this little love-nest of his, telling me I'd keep quiet and go along with it or my brother would be next. All I remember is looking over my shoulder to where two of the other workers were holding him back and seeing the look on his face, the rage... the powerlessness. I shook my head at him and let Thalric take me away. I was fourteen.”

Kodlak counted the years – if this happened around Thalric's death, that would make her forty now, which seemed about right, enough years for her to have reached a leading role in the Forsworn and still be relatively young. So she'd been Thalric's unwilling, underage mistress, likely lost her virginity to him, hostage to her brother's safety, no doubt terrified throughout. No wonder she hated Nords.

No wonder she wanted compensating.

“So how did you get free?” Kodlak asked. “Did your brother rescue you?” Of course not, not unless Thalric had had two mistresses on the go twenty five years ago. Again, that mocking cackle.

“Yes and no. I played a waiting game, lulled Thalric into a false sense of security. Let him believe I wanted him, that I was enjoying it.” Her voice lowered as she said the next bit. “Sometimes I did not have to pretend. As time wore on, it was amazing what I could get used to. I was hidden away, trapped, but I had everything I could ask for, clothes, jewels, books, fine food and drink, and the sex was not unpleasant, not once he believed I was his. He was a very vain man, he did not take much convincing. But I did not forget my father or my brother.” She did look up then, smiling viciously. “It must have been a year later when Thalric came in idly talking about one young apprentice worker, sacked after one incident too many, turning up late or drunk or not at all, or fighting. He idly dropped the name and I don't think he even realised. He thought he'd won, you see. Thought I was his through and through. I don't think he knew we were twins. That night I let him take me every way he could, gave him every pleasure I could think of, exhausted the man. And while he slept like the dead after, I broke my handmirror, took one of the shards and slit his throat. Stole his keys, crept out, fled back to the Warrens to where I'd lived before. My brother was there, red-eyed and half-drunk on cheap wine and I don't think he believed it was really me at first. But he believed when I cast Frostbite on him and told him to sober up, I was in trouble. He held me with tears in his eyes and listened, and when I told him what I'd done, the light came back into his eyes. He gathered all our possessions, all our father's writings, stole a few tools and ingots, sneaked me out of Markarth. Then we ran into the hills, did not stop until we found one of the camps, pleaded with them to help us. They recognised our father's name, were astounded at all the books of old Reach lore we brought. We were welcomed in as heroes and we've gone on to do great things. But beast, oh my beast, I could not forget.”

She was looking up at him, silver-blue eyes staring up at him, and Kodlak had never felt so guilty for anything in his life. Even though it wasn't him who'd destroyed a girl's family and spent the best part of a year raping her, still he felt guilty. For believing the lie in the first place, that the murderer had been an adult Forsworn agent sent to seduce, and not a victim herself. Keirine didn't seem like a victim any more, true... but she still looked haunted.

“You never got over it,” he said softly, stroking her hair and she shook her head.

“No. Never. I tried taking other lovers, I tried, but I could never quite trust them, never stop wondering if they really wanted me or were just pretending... I'd let them do things I didn't really want because I didn't know I could say no, and then my brother found out someone had gone too far and after that whole incident I stopped altogether. Nothing like finding out your lover died in a 'hunting accident' to put you off the whole thing. And then there was the shameful truth I never admitted to anyone, least of all my dear Nord-hating brother.” Hesitation, as if she didn't want to admit it, but Kodlak had a feeling she was going to.

“I missed Thalric,” she whispered. “He wasn't all bad. He was kind sometimes. I had food and warmth and baths and nice clothes. I missed my brother, but I didn't miss the Warrens. I stayed there so long without even realising what he was going through. Guilt is a terrible thing, you know, realising you should have escaped months ago but didn't because you liked captivity. I never could forgive myself.”

She fell silent and Kodlak held her, shaking with rage and he wanted to break out of here, hunt down Thalric, the Jarl who'd let it happen, all the remaining Silver-Bloods, slaughter them all in beast form, take revenge for what they'd done to his Keirine, hurt her, damaged her, sent her on the road to Hagravenship in the first place. Blatantly obvious why she'd gone Hag so young. She couldn't deal with men any more and taken the one route that would make sure she never had to again. Except she'd still had needs and desires, and quite possibly her Reachman lovers just hadn't been enough for her. She'd wanted a Nord and felt like a traitor for it. So she'd set out to capture one... except it hadn't gone according to plan.

“It is not your fault,” Kodlak whispered. “None of it was your fault, you were just a girl and I am sure your brother would say the same. I don't think he blamed you for not escaping sooner, in fact it sounds like he was proud of you for managing it at all.”

“He would not be proud of the nights I spent alone, hoping Thalric would visit!” Keirine snapped, before gasping and looking away, flinching away from Kodlak.

“I need to leave,” Keirine whispered, struggling out of his arms and Kodlak panicked.

“No,” he growled, pouncing on her, pulling her back to him, her back to his chest, feathers fluttering as she struggled and despite all her power, he was still physically stronger. Strong enough to compel her to stay. “No, don't you dare go, you're my Matriarch, you are not leaving, not like this! You are not running away!”

Keirine shrieked, feathers nearly blinding him as she squirmed, trying to slash at him with her claws... but they were too blunt to do any good.

“Let go of me!” she snarled. “Let go of me now or I swear I'll kill you, I swear!”

“You won't,” Kodlak growled. “You won't, because thanks to you, I know what it feels like now too! Do you think anyone at Jorrvaskr would be proud of all the nights I've spent here, lying awake and wishing you'd come to me? Do you honestly think that even if I ever get out of here, I'll ever forget this? Damn you, you can mourn him if you like, if you died during my escape attempt, I'd still mourn _you!_ ”

She'd gone still, the feathers on her back still fluttering, but she'd stopped fighting.

“Why would you ever mourn me, Nord,” she whispered. “I'm just some Hagraven, the sort of wild animal you'd kill in a second and count it just another job.”

“You're hardly just another job,” Kodlak whispered in her ear. Keirine let out a little sob and he could almost feel the relief sliding down his back as she turned around, gazing up at him with tears in her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, and whether it was him or Thalric she wanted to say it to, he wasn't sure, but he did believe her. 

“I forgive you,” he told her and she just lowered her head, sobbing quietly.

“After all this, how can you,” she whispered. “When you're still a slave, why should you?”

Kodlak was sure there was a good answer to that but he couldn't for the life of him think of it. All he could do was hold his Hagraven tight and hope it helped her.

“If you killed me while escaping, you could mourn all you liked, it would not make me any less dead,” Keirine continued. “Don't talk to me of forgiveness, beast.” She dried her eyes, expression hardening as she pushed him away, and this time he let her go, sensing it would be unwise to push her further.

“I killed him in his sleep while he lay defenceless,” Keirine growled, staring down at him as she climbed to her feet. “Hardly a death bards will sing about. Maybe he deserved it – that's for the gods to judge. But he won't see Sovngarde. He did not die with honour, my beast.”

“You need to have some in the first place for that,” Kodlak countered, thinking Thalric emphatically did not belong anywhere near Shor's Hall. Keirine did laugh at that.

“Honour is overrated, my beast. All the same, I can admire it in another. How you still have yours even caged, I do not know. But you do.” Here she looked almost sad as she gazed down at him. “It won't do you any good, you know. No matter how honourably you live or die. You're a werewolf, beast, Hircine will claim you regardless. You won't see Sovngarde. Why do you think I chose a Companion? Apparently I have some principles left. I wasn't going to take a man's pretty dream of Sovngarde from him so I chose a Nord who I knew would already have thrown it away.” She stopped, grin fading as she saw his face, and Kodlak couldn't speak. Askar never told him this, no one had ever told him this, no one had ever said that taking the blood meant Sovngarde was barred to him. It made sense, it made a sick sort of sense, the whole idea of Sovngarde was based on the concept of a fair fight between equal foes, not one who'd changed the odds in their own favour by taking on powers denied to most. 

_Ysgramor would never have been a werewolf,_ Kodlak realised, and if the Companions weren't honouring Ysgramor's legacy, there was precious little honour in it at all.

“You did not know,” Keirine breathed, and she was back, kneeling by his side, touching his face, staring at him in horror. “Whoever turned you never told you.”

Kodlak shook his head, mute. He couldn't speak, couldn't even fathom the betrayal. Keirine's arms were around him, feathers soft against his skin as she held him to her, warm flesh around him, but it didn't help, none of it helped.

Jorrvaskr was infested with a lie, and one that might never be cleaned out of it. Certainly there was no hope for him. Was there a cure? What might he have to do to have that cure? Being clean would be no help if Sovngarde was lost to him anyway. And trapped here, there was nothing he could do.

“Keirine,” he whispered, clinging on to her for lack of any other options. “Keirine, help me. I don't know what to do, Keirine, help me...”

“Then do nothing, beast,” Keirine murmured, leading him back down to the fur pile and laying him down on it. Kneeling by his side, she stroked his cheek and then leaned down and kissed him once on the lips.

“Rest,” she whispered. “Rest, sleep, I will see you soon. Leave it with me, beast. I will take care of you.”

“Keirine,” Kodlak whispered, feeling heartbroken and feverish and desperate all at once, trying to cling on to her, but she took his fingers from her top and placed his hands down on the straw.

“Trust me,” she murmured gently, and then she was gone, vanishing as she always did. Kodlak curled up under the furs, more devastated than he'd ever been. He hadn't realised it, but the dream of Sovngarde, the shining vision of Shor's Hall, had been all that had been keeping him going. Now it was gone, his whole former life had been a lie, and it had taken the Forsworn to show it to him.

Closing his eyes, Kodlak lay down and wept. More than anything he wanted to go home... but he had no idea where home even was any more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Only a little time passed. A day or so, no more. And then she was back, looking delighted.

“Beast, beast, wake up!” she cried. “I have something for you!”

She wasn't holding anything other than a pack with just a few potions. Kodlak blinked as she swept the various toys she'd left here into the pack, before reaching for the chain attaching him to the wall. A jolt of magic later and it fell loose, Keirine taking the end.

“You are too pale and thin, beast, you need to rebuild your strength. We cannot have you wasting away down here, no. Come, come, can you stand?”

No was the answer to that. Kodlak tried but his knees had other ideas and unused muscles screamed in pain. He collapsed, exhausted as Keirine caught him.

“No, I suspected as much,” she murmured. “Here, drink these then hold on to me. You need exercise.”

Quite how she expected him to get any exercise down here was beyond him, but he gladly accepted the offer of healing and stamina potions. Then he knelt at her feet, no longer too proud to hold on to her leg. Keirine ruffled his hair, shouldered the pack and wrapped the chain around her wrist, before kneeling herself and pulling him to her.

“Now,” she whispered. “Let's go.”

The teleportation magic flared and before Kodlak could protest, he was being hurled through some horrific purple and black void, blasted countryside and crumbling ruins everywhere, and what looked like the ghosts of the damned crying and reaching out to him, and he could feel the life being drained from him... and then it was gone and it was warm, or warmer at least. Kodlak collapsed to the ground, fighting the urge to vomit as he clutched at the grass. At least the cool breeze helped... wait. Grass? Breeze?

He looked up and saw the silhouette of trees and the aurora blazing down at him, Masser just visible over the mountains. He was outside. She'd brought him outside. Such a small thing, such a small mercy... but he was so overwhelmed, he could weep.

“Why,” he whispered. “Why this? Why now?”

She scratched at the back of his neck and nuzzled his hair.

“Because I don't need compensating any more,” she whispered. They stayed like that for a few minutes more, before she was urging him to all fours.

“We cannot linger, not out in the open like this,” she murmured. “Strangers might come and you cannot fight them, not caged like this. But there is a safe place nearby – only I sent the warriors away. It has its own defences but nothing it could send to aid us if attacked.”

A risk, it was true, and Kodlak couldn't risk anyone seeing him like this, not plugged and his cock caged, collared and chained like some wild animal – well, wasn't he just that all along? Keirine took the plug out of him, tucked it away in the pack and cajoled him into crawling after her, giving a little tug on the chain when he stopped to look at flowers and animals as if he'd never seen them before, feeling the sight and sound and smell of the night like he'd never truly been able to see before. Freedom at last... and yet not free. Still bound. But at least he wasn't shut away either. 

He trailed after Keirine, trying to work out where they were. He could hear rushing water, knew the Karth wasn't far away, or maybe a tributary of it, and they were in a forest, crawling upwards. Some sort of wooded promontory, but he'd not thought the Reach had many woods. Keirine would stop and encourage him when his step faltered, offering him more stamina potions when he became tired, stroking his back in admiration, and this was an intoxication he'd not thought possible, the fear, the risk of someone coming upon them and seeing him like this, knowing what he'd been reduced to. It terrified him. It thrilled him.

Finally they started moving down again, a small clearing below them. Kodlak sensed magic in the air, the air around him shimmered and then he was in a Forsworn camp, a small outpost with just a couple of tents, a smoking campfire and a chest full of supplies, along with the ubiquitous windbreaks and stakes and goat and Spriggan heads on pikes, just in case anyone hadn't realised it was a Forsworn camp.

“A small border outpost to keep an eye on the Nords from,” Keirine said softly. “But we're not really doing much with it. So I sent the warriors away, we only had two here at a time. I needed somewhere better to keep you, beast. Welcome to your new home.”

Kodlak could barely speak. He crawled around the campsite, looking around, realising there was food here and a water tank and firewood, enough to last for a week or so. Then he crawled to the edge and gasped.

They were near the Karth all right. Near the Reach's northernmost tip. Dragon Bridge, the bridge and the town, lay sprawled at the bottom of the cliff the camp was based on, and Kodlak realised he'd been past this very ridge a hundred times, never once realising there was a Forsworn camp here. This place was well-hidden, and clearly there was some sort of illusion magic keeping trespassers at bay too.

“Why?” he whispered.

“The dungeon was killing you,” Keirine said softly, coming to sit next to him, an arm around his shoulders. “No man should be kept away from the sky forever. It is not in our nature to be locked away. You do not see the sky as a Reachman would, but even so.” She stared up at the stars, her eyes sad. “My brother cannot see this. He used to love watching the stars. It was one of the few things that comforted us both. I don't know if he even knows if it's day or night any more. I always tell him when I write what the sky's doing. He doesn't acknowledge it, but I like to think it comforts him. He hasn't told me to stop anyway.”

Kodlak pulled her into his arms, saying nothing as he held her. Of course Nords and Reachmen saw the sky differently – but it was no less important to Nords. Nords were the Sky Children, they called their greatest forge the Skyforge, they revered Kyne, the Goddess of the Sky and Winds. To be cut off from her was an unimaginable punishment, and he'd not realised until now how much he'd missed it. He still wasn't sure why Keirine had decided to reunite him with the outside world a little, but he had a feeling she could no longer bring herself to hate him and with the hate gone, she could no longer bear to keep the sky from him.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I don't know what to say.”

“A reminder of home can help with so much,” Keirine murmured back. “Or it can make things worse. But you are not trapped here. There are wards and illusions hiding this place, preventing hostiles from coming near and confusing their minds. Should keep wild animals away too. But they won't stop you leaving.” She flicked the collar at his neck. “A good smith could have this off. The other binding is trickier... but a good healer-priest could do it without harming you.” She patted his trapped cock gently. “Dragon Bridge is right there, it's not even far. If you fear ridicule, there are pelts here for warmth and comfort, wrap one about your loins and go down into Haafingar like that. I am sure the guards will believe you escaped the Forsworn but lost all your possessions, and sure the Temple will take care of you and write to your friends in Jorrvaskr to come get you. Nothing stopping you leaving... beast.”

Kodlak stared down at Dragon Bridge like it was a foreign country. He'd seen it before, been there enough times... but it was no longer part of his world. Just a nice view, but not part of his life. This camp was his life and Keirine was his Matriarch. Some bindings could never be broken.

So it was that he reached for her and kissed her, free to do that at least, grinning as he heard her gasp and then squirming against him, hands reaching for him as she kissed him back, crawling onto his lap and straddling him, grinding against a cock that wouldn't do anything and growling in what might be frustration.

That pleased him too, oddly enough. _The solution to this is in your own hands, Keirine._ But she shrugged and settled for unlacing the top of her Forsworn armour instead, pulling his mouth to breasts that were small but not yet withered, nipples standing erect. Kodlak suckled greedily on one, hands roaming down her back to squeeze her bottom, and while there was less fat than he was used to, the little sounds she was making were a delight to hear. She didn't object as he laid her down, wrapping her legs around his shoulders as he kissed his way down her abdomen, feathers tickling his face as he dived between her thighs sucking on her clit and devouring her juices.

She cried out as she came, clinging on to his hair, writhing on the ground until she finally lay still, breathless and worn out, and had he been free, he'd have finished the job, fucking and riding her until she could take no more. 

But he was bound and could do no more. So he kissed her once and retrieved one of the pelts lying around, lying down on it and cradling her to him.

“I should punish you for that, beast,” she murmured, but he could see she was smiling. 

“I look forward to it,” he told her, knowing she'd take him up on that somehow but not minding. As long as she came back.

Silence fell as they lay there, pausing only for Keirine to stir up the fire and get it roaring again, a fire rune on their other side so they were caught between two heat sources. Forsworn knew a thing or two about keeping warm, it seemed.

“So who was she?” Keirine finally whispered.

“Who was who?” Kodlak asked sleepily. Keirine's fingers stroked his hair as she shifted against him.

“Your previous Matriarch. The one who trained you. Who was she? Is she still alive? Was she a Nord too?”

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, surprised. Not often a woman wanted to know about previous lovers.

“I was curious. Did it not end well?” Keirine glanced up, those silvery eyes gazing up at him. She seemed genuinely interested so Kodlak shrugged and decided to tell her. She'd shared her story after all.

“It was years ago, back in the spring and summer of 160. I was working out in Hammerfell, bodyguard to some weak-necked lord in Stros M'Kai. Her name was Stelmaria Di Rosso and she was a Praefect with the Imperial Legion, some ten years older than me and beautiful, so beautiful. Tiny too, shorter than you Reachmen and women, about five foot three or four, I think. Long dark red hair, dark eyes, pale skin – she used to rub lotions in to keep the sun off. Claimed she just went pink and her skin peeled if she was out in it too long, not like most Imperials who go brown. She was Colovian, probably had a bit of Nord blood in her but she wasn't noble or anything, she didn't know if that was true. But she was as fierce as any Nord woman, a true fighter, as I learned to my cost when I tried to chat her up one night. I was a brash young twenty five years old, convinced I knew everything and that no woman could resist. Unfortunately for me, she did, and I learned that size wasn't everything when she bested me in combat. It made an impression.”

Keirine laughed softly, clearly amused by this. “Oh dear. Young, foolish, no respect. Dare I say you had it coming?”

“I did,” Kodlak admitted, smiling at the memory. “But somehow she took pity on me and agreed to see me if I did what I was told. I'd never really lost a fight and was unprepared for how it would feel. I didn't realise what fear and arousal did to each other. I definitely was not prepared for her voice. Never mind the Greybeards being masters of the Voice, Stelmaria could reduce men to tears or send them howling into battle with just a few words of command. She was stronger than anyone I'd ever known... and she made me the man I am today. I loved her deeply.”

“Then what?” Keirine whispered. “Where did she go? You are not married. None of your Circle are, I checked.”

“I don't know,” Kodlak said softly, the darkness making it easier to whisper his secret out, relive the old pain that had never really healed. “One night she just vanished. I searched for weeks, turned over the entire city, raided every smugglers' gang and thieves' den, asked innkeepers, sailors and whores if they'd seen her. Nothing. It was as if she'd been spirited away by a Daedra. I never saw her again. Six weeks after she vanished, I was ready to give up, and then I met Askar, who became Harbinger of the Companions a few years after, and he took me back to Skyrim with him. I wasn't sure if I should leave or not, but people were starting to get suspicious of me and her Legion were asking questions. I think they thought I'd killed her, as if I could ever harm her. So I left, hoping she'd think to follow me to Skyrim. Nine know I'd spoken of it often enough, spoken of returning one day. I joined the Companions and made a name for myself as a mighty warrior, thinking she'd come to Skyrim, hear stories of me and come find me in Whiterun. But she never did. I've never missed anyone so much...”

Keirine stroked his chest, saying nothing, and it felt weird to be finally confessing all this to a Hagraven. But she was listening at least.

“Did you never try to find her? Never think to go to Cyrodiil, see if her family knew where she'd gone?”

“If I had known if she had any, I might have done,” Kodlak sighed. “But her brother was dead as were her parents, she had no kin remaining. Cyrodiil is a big place. Still I wonder if I could have done more. But it was years ago. I am forty five, she must be in her fifties if she even lives. The war was hard on Cyrodiil, I have no doubt she'd have fought in it if she could. I fear we are parted for good.”

“That is sad,” Keirine whispered, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “I had expected a quarrel, a parting or a death or just realising you needed other things. But for her to vanish with no trace and no one know how... hmm. It could be she was killed by some common cutthroat... but I wonder... Ah, no matter. It was long ago. You would prefer to forget, no doubt.”

Kodlak really would. It had been a long time waiting for her, and he was sure by now she was never coming to find him. Certainly she'd never find him here and he was sure he wouldn't want her to, not cuddled up with Keirine.

“Matriarch,” he whispered. “Stay with me tonight?”

“I will,” Keirine whispered. “My beast, I surely will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

They settled into a routine, Kodlak making himself at home and Keirine dropping by without fail every couple of days. Sometimes there'd be punishments (but nothing a true Nord couldn't handle) and sometimes just passionate falling into bed and sometimes they'd just share food and talk. Keirine talked very little of current Forsworn operations, but she'd tell him about Forsworn culture, some of the gossip, stories from her childhood, Forsworn folk stories (all of which seemed to involve plucky little Reachman or woman heroes using wit, cunning, trickery and magic to outwit Nord foes who without exception were depicted as big, ugly brutes with little in the way of brains and whose chief desire was to kill anything they couldn't mate with), sundry other things she could think of. And he'd tell her of Nords, tales of heroism and bravery, tales of Sovngarde, of dragons, of the Thu'um, of the Greybeards, stories of triumphs against enemies. Tales of the war just gone. Keirine didn't look like she approved entirely, but even so, she enjoyed a tale well told as much as anyone.

Life passed peacefully until one day Keirine came and told him she was leaving for a while.

“Leaving?” he gasped. “But where? Why? When are you coming back?”

“I will tell you when I return,” Keirine said, smiling sadly at him as she kissed his cheek. “I do not expect to be gone longer than a month. Do not worry, there is a chest not far away, hidden beneath the trees – here is a key. Warriors will be by every three days with supplies. You will not starve.”

“But I'll miss you,” Kodlak whispered. “Don't go!”

Keirine shook her head, tears in her eyes. “I must, beast,” she told him. “It will be a month, no more... but if sixty days have passed and I do not return, then you must not stay. You must leave and return to your people, and not think on me or look for me again.”

Kodlak understood her meaning all too well. 

“This task you are leaving on, it is dangerous, isn't it?”

“It might be,” Keirine admitted. “But I have no choice. I will see you soon.” She pulled on a set of black robes over her Forsworn gear, clicked her fingers once and suddenly she was a Hag no more, but a blonde Breton woman in her late thirties, a scar on her cheek and her left eye a sightless orb.

“I make myself look too pretty, it attracts unwanted attention,” Keirine grinned. “But an older warrior-witch, men tend to leave alone, mostly. I have travelled in this guise before, it works well enough. Do not fear, I know what I am doing.”

 _Don't leave me. Don't die!_ But Kodlak could see her mind was made up and there was no talking her out of it.

“Then come back and tell me the story,” Kodlak growled. “You be sure to let me know what happened when your dangerous delving into secrets best left that way is done.”

Keirine cackled at that. “Telling a witch to not poke into secrets? A waste of breath, my dangerous delving will never be done with.” But her smile faded slightly as she patted his cheek and kissed him again. “But I will return and tell you all, my pet. Stay safe.”

She let him go and teleported away again... and Kodlak pulled furs around himself and settled in to wait. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

He was marking the days, using charcoal from the fire to keep a count on one of the tent poles. She'd left him books at least – Madmen of the Reach and the Bear of Markarth he'd expected, the entire collected volumes of the Real Barenziah and the Wolf Queen he had not. All the same, it was interesting reading. Talos knew there wasn't a lot else to do.

Seven days passed and he grew restless. Fourteen passed and he missed her. A month went by and he grew lonely. Six weeks passed and he grew afraid.

By day fifty he was staring down at Dragon Bridge, knowing in his heart he wasn't going to see her again, that whatever dangerous quest she'd gone on had claimed her life. But she had said two months. He would wait that long before walking away. If he left, he'd never see her again. If he stayed, there was always the hope of her return.

By day fifty eight he was staring down at Dragon Bridge, wondering if he'd survive the fall down the cliff and if following her into death would hurt. 

Then the teleportation spell flared. Kodlak turned, the trance broken, staring as he saw her collapse to her knees by the camp fire, illusion of a Breton mercenary woman still in place.

“Keirine,” Kodlak gasped. “By the Nine, you're alive. Keirine, what happened?” He ran to her side, helping her up, seeing her flushed and excited about something. Wherever she'd gone, she'd found what she was after.

“Beloved beast!” Keirine giggled, looking for all the world like an ordinary woman just back in her ordinary lover's arms. “I came back, look! I went out in the world on my own and survived! And only a few men tried anything, but I fought them off! It is amazing how men lose interest when you put their face through a table. And if they get you alone, dropping the illusions just for them sends them screaming, you know.”

“Worthless cowards,” Kodlak said, pulling a pelt around them both. “You can drop them now, you know. I know what you look like.”

“You don't prefer me like this?” Keirine pouted, looking disappointed. Kodlak thought about that one before shrugging.

“It isn't really you,” he said. “I'd rather see the truth.”

Keirine actually looked surprised, but pleased, definitely pleased, and she dropped the cloak of magic that veiled her real face. Features became sharper and leaner and the claws, teeth and feathers re-appeared but Kodlak just felt relieved to see his Hagraven again.

“Welcome back,” he whispered as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Keirine sighed and kissed him back, being careful with claws that she'd clearly let grow out again.

“You missed me,” she laughed. Kodlak nodded.

“Of course, Matriarch. I was counting the days.”

“So was I,” Keirine whispered as she nestled into his arms. “I feared I'd be too late and you'd have gone. Again.”

Again?? “What do you mean?” Kodlak asked. “I've never left you. Keirine, where did you go? What did you find out?”

“Many things,” Keirine said, grinning. “That Tamriel is a lot bigger than I thought. That the open sea and the wind in your hair and a proud ship beneath you are the finest things ever! That Nords are by and large a bit simple but not quite the monsters we think they are. And that Redguards are the vainest people I've ever come across, and that trying to get a straight answer out of an Imperial is near impossible without large sums of coin. Which I did not have, but fortunately I'd learned enough by then to work out how to impersonate a senior Legion officer, and the psychic paper did the rest.”

Kodlak would have protested at the deception and trickery involved but he'd had long experience of dealing with Redguards, Imperials and Legion bureaucracy and could quite see how she'd formed this impression.

“Where exactly did you go?” he asked, trying to work out how she'd had to deal with all of those in one trip. Ship from Solitude from the sounds of it, then where? Hammerfell? Cyrodiil? But why would she go so far?

“Stros M'Kai,” Keirine said quietly, going sombre. “It is a long way, my beast, you did not say it was such a distance. And the Imperial City was even further.”

Stros M'Kai. The Imperial City. A Hag of the Forsworn going all that way herself. Kodlak could think of only one thing that might have sent her to either place.

“Why?” he whispered, feeling his throat tightening as he held her, but he knew, of course he did. She'd gone looking for Stelmaria.

“It's too late, Kodlak,” Keirine said softly, using his true name for the first time since he'd known her. “You missed her by days, she was back in Stros M'Kai mere days after you left for Skyrim. Howled her heart out to hear it by all accounts. She never intended to leave, you see. She was... taken. But she escaped and came back for you only to find you gone.”

“You found her?” Kodlak whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks as he realised Stelmaria never left him, had always loved him regardless. He was half-tempted to flee to Hammerfell in search of her... but Keirine was looking solemnly up at him and shaking her head.

“She didn't keep her Legion job but they pensioned her off in the end,” she said quietly. “So she went back to Cyrodiil, to the Imperial City in fact. She spent the next decade living there quietly, happily enough I suppose, but I imagine she was lonely. I don't know if she took lovers, probably not, but she never married.”

Next decade... taking the timeline neatly up until the start of the war. The Great War with the Dominion, during which the Imperial City had fallen to the elves. Kodlak had heard horror stories of that occupation.

“What happened?” Kodlak whispered, clinging on to her. “Is she still there?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Keirine said softly. “She died during the war, Kodlak, died trying to protect the city when the Dominion took it. I am told it was an honourable death in battle at least. She had it better than most. I found her grave, saw the memorial to Cyrodiil's war dead, saw her name there. Kodlak, she is gone beyond. I am sorry.”

Kodlak couldn't speak. Didn't even know what to say. It wasn't a gift, not this news that was breaking his heart and destroying his hopes, however faint they'd been. And yet... at least he knew the story now. That she'd lived and still loved him in the end, not even finding anyone else. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispered and then he was crying, howling his grief out as Keirine held him, the sun already dipping below the western mountains as night fell and the stars came out. Keirine held him until the sun was gone and the moons were high above them, until the tears finally subsided.

“Why?” he asked eventually. “Why did you go to all that trouble?”

“I wanted to know the rest of the story,” Keirine said, shrugging. “You cannot tell a witch only half a story and expect her not to want to know the rest. So seeing as you could not tell me, I went looking.” She nestled in closer, aiming a fire spell into the hearth and firing up the flames. “Also I could see it in your eyes. You could never rest easy until you knew what happened, so I went to find out. I am very good at ferreting out secrets, my beast.”

“Aren't you just,” Kodlak murmured, planting a kiss on the top of her head. So Stelmaria was dead. He'd expected as much, but he'd not realised how much it would hurt to hear it confirmed. He just hoped it had been quick – but if you could choose a death, dying in defence of the city and country you loved would be it. Stelmaria had thought so anyway. At least she was at peace now. 

“Keirine... Matriarch...” Kodlak began. “Please... will you come to bed with me? I've been good. I've missed you, please...”

Keirine looked up, hazy smile on her face as she kissed his lips. “Yes, my Kodlak, I surely will.”

They retreated into the tent, Keirine shedding her clothes and taking the pelts off Kodlak before they collapsed on to the straw pile, kissing and touching, Keirine rolling on to her back and pushing his head to her breasts. Kodlak obeyed, loving the way she was reacting, and loving it even more when she'd had enough and pushed him lower and he knew what she wanted. He gave it to her, sucking on her clit and fingering her, sliding first one then two fingers inside her, scissoring them until she was squirming, writhing in front of him and looking absolutely stunning.

“Like that?” he gasped. “Want more?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, more, please Kodlak, more!”

Kodlak thrust that bit harder but she still didn't look satisfied... frustrated, if anything. She sat up, wildness in her eyes as she stared at him then she gestured with her left hand, all the while string intently at his cock. The bindings glowed then faded away, leaving his cock free. Kodlak stared at it, then back to her.

“What did you just do – why?” he asked. It had been so long since he'd used it for anything sexual, he'd forgotten how almost.

“Why do you think?” Keirine purred, lying back down and smirking up at him and that did it, the teasing wench. Despite the voice crying out that it was wrong, very wrong, to want to use and fuck his Matriarch like this, Kodlak wanted it very very much and his cock clearly agreed because it was making its presence felt as if it had never been away.

“Oh you want me, don't you, beast?” Keirine whispered, stretching out and arching her back. “Go on then. Serve me as I've served you.”

Kodlak growled and leapt on her, shoving her legs apart and barely stopping to line himself up before he was inside her, and by the Nine she felt good. Hot, tight, dripping wet, gasping as he sank into her, moaning as if in pain – not used to men his size perhaps? Good. Something rather gratifying about giving her something other men couldn't.

“Like it?” Kodlak gasped, leaning over her, watching her lying prone beneath him, eyes closed, mouth open and something he'd not seen often on her. Peace.

“Yes,” she sighed. “Oh yes. Kodlak, yes, please, I want this, please.” Kodlak thrusted again, watching and feeling her respond, clinging on to him and if the claws drew blood, he didn't care, just fucked her harder. She was gasping, moaning softly, pleading for more and Kodlak gave it, gave everything as he clung on to her, claiming her at last, taking her for his own, closing his eyes and listening as she came, until he finally could take no more and was coming too, thrusting inside her, almost crying as the rush hit him. It had been so long, so long, and he was almost crying as he came, thrusting inside before finally collapsing on her, shaking as she held him, raining gentle kisses on his face as she crooned over him.

“Was that good, my beast? Did you need that, pet?”

Kodlak nodded, withdrawing from her and rolling off her, but not letting her go. He used one of the pelts to clean them both before pulling them over them both.

“I think you did too,” he murmured. “Did you enjoy it, my dear?”

Keirine nodded, snuggling into his arms. “Yes, cariad, yes I did. Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you,” he said quietly, kissing her forehead. “Are you going to rebind me?”

A pause. Then a shake of the head. 

“Not right now, cariad. Let's just sleep, hmm?”

Kodlak was all right with that. His Hag in his arms, he fell asleep and slept contentedly for the first time in a long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When he woke up, something was different. Something wrong. No Keirine... and his neck felt wrong. He rubbed at it, wondering what it was and then he realised. No collar.

He sat up, staring around, wondering how it had got off him. No plug either, all the little tools of domination all gone. But what was there was his wolf armour cleaned and shined, fresh smallclothes and undergarments, his pack with food and potions in it and a few soul gems... and his Skyforge steel greatsword. Looked like it anyway, but the fire enchantment on it was new. Come to think of it, the entire outfit was enchanted. Stamina boost on the cuirass, archery boost on the gauntlets, some sort of Muffle enchantment on the boots, and the helm carried a boost to his two-handed skill. He knew who'd done this, of course. Question was, why?

He got dressed, armed himself and slipped out of the tent, wondering what was going on. She was there, sitting on the other side of the fire, looking down at Dragon Bridge, apparently unaware he'd got up.

He fingered the greatsword. She was there, oblivious, a Matriarch of the Forsworn, with a brother in Madanach's High Command no less, clearly a powerful figure in the Rebellion. He had a blade now, he could take her on, kill her now while she was vulnerable and the Forsworn would have lost a key player. A Hagraven anyway, really he'd be doing the world a favour.

Except he couldn't do it. Not like this, not after all they'd shared. Maybe they'd part now, and if he met her again in honourable battle he wouldn't hesitate (or would he?)... but not like this.

“Keirine,” he called to her and she did turn then, only looking a little sad to see him dressed.

“Kodlak,” she said sadly. “You are up.”

“I am,” he said, hoping his confusion was obvious. “Keirine, what's going on?”

“I have had reports from my fellow Matriarchs,” Keirine said bitterly. “Your Companions believe you dead at our hands and have declared vengeance. They're savaging our camps. Three Matriarchs dead already, and countless innocents – and not so innocents. I can keep you no longer, creenama. You need to go home. Back to Jorrvaskr. You are their Harbinger, are you not? Their leader. They will listen to you.”

“We've had no leader since Ysgramor, I just advise them of the honourable way of doing things.” He paused, thinking of his Shield-Siblings slaughtering their way through the Reach, and shuddered a little. Maybe the Forsworn deserved it a little... but even so, it wasn't happening in his name. “But if I turn up very much alive and unharmed and tell them this vendetta is not worth it... yes, I think I can call them off.”

“Good,” Keirine said, sounding relieved. “Jobs are one thing, but I would prefer for it not to get... personal. On the bright side, I've got three girls in my own camp just ripe for Ascension. They'll love the chance to get their own camps, but I'm not sending them anywhere until your people have calmed down.”

“I'll do that,” Kodlak promised and then fell silent, realising that once he left, that would be it. He'd likely not see her again. “I'm... going to miss you.”

“And I you,” Keirine said quietly. “But this need not be the end. I'm going to look into a cure for the beast blood, you know. It's not the original purpose I had in mind for it... but I might be able to get somewhere. If you can stay alive and not get yourself killed and avoid any more Forsworn camps other than mine... you might see your Sovngarde yet.”

“You'd do that?” Kodlak gasped, sitting next to her and staring in shock. “I mean, you can find out?”

“Of course,” Keirine said, amused. “I managed to track down a woman who went missing twenty years ago on very little solid information, I can certainly ask my fellow Hags how to reverse the beast blood curse. One of them certainly knows how. It is just a matter of asking around, finding who she is then getting it out of her. I am certain they will be all too willing to boast of how they tricked the famous Companions of Jorrvaskr out of Sovngarde.”

“Almost certainly,” Kodlak said grimly. “I'll see if anyone in Jorrvaskr knows the tale. I might be able to help.”

“That would assist me greatly,” Keirine said. “Thank you. Listen, I don't think it wise for you to come to Hag's End again without an invitation, and you should certainly not come to this place. I rarely come here, the warriors stationed here will attack on sight.”

“I don't fear a couple of Forsworn,” Kodlak said, then belatedly recalled perhaps Keirine might not appreciate that. “But I'd rather not shed the blood of any more of your kind than I have to.”

“Much appreciated,” Keirine said dryly. “If you're in the mood for such kindnesses, you might also consider notifying me of any jobs you get given against us. I might be able to assist in a peaceful or at least less bloody resolution.”

That did not sound remotely honourable, but nevertheless Kodlak could at least consider it.

“I'll think about it,” he said. “So how am I to reach you then?”

“Don't worry, I knew this day would come,” Keirine said. “The general store owner in Whiterun had an unfortunate accident a few weeks back. Owed someone some money, the Brotherhood got involved, it was all rather messy. Meant there was a business with a vacancy, so one of our people who'd proved allergic to fighting has taken it over. Belethor ap Gawain. He is a sleazy little weasel, but knows we're watching him. Give him any letter you write for me, tell him it is for Keirine ap Caradach of Cwn Prendwemyn. It'll reach me. He'll also deliver any replies up to Jorrvaskr. Try not to pester him for letters very often, he's a little impatient.”

Keirine ap Caradach of Cwm Prendwemyn. He could remember that. He wondered where it came from. Her name from before perhaps.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and if he felt a little uneasy at there being a Forsworn agent in the heart of Whiterun, he kept it to himself. It meant some hope of contact with her and for that he could overlook all sorts of things. “I... should probably go then.”

“You probably should,” Keirine said quietly, staring down at Dragon Bridge, her face impassive, and this wasn't how Kodlak wanted it to end, it really wasn't. And there was one thing preying on his mind still.

“Did you actually need my blood for anything or was it all a convenient ruse to have a pet Nord for a bit?” he asked. Doubtful she'd tell him but it was worth asking just to prolong the moment when he had to say goodbye.

“Told you, beast,” Keirine said, smiling at him. “I wanted compensation. Keteen. To repair the wrong done to my brother.”

“Revenge for imprisoning him, I get that,” Kodlak sighed. “But you didn't need to take my blood for that.”

To his surprise, Keirine shook her head. “No. The imprisonment is his own fault in a lot of ways. Idiot should never have surrendered. He could have taken them all. Even if they'd killed his daughter, he should have kept on fighting, not let her sacrifice have been in vain. As it is, he did not. No, Kodlak. They have done him a deeper wrong than merely shutting him away in a hole in the ground.”

“How so?” Kodlak asked, thinking that was wrong enough, surely. Keirine lowered her eyes, and maybe that was a good thing because her voice sounded heartbroken as she said the next word.

“Skooma, Kodlak. A cursed thing, a poison, once it is in your blood, you are never truly free of it. That mine is full of it, prisoners smuggle it in, use it as currency. My brother... he's fallen victim.” 

“He's a Skooma addict,” Kodlak realised, and the injustice of that hit home hard. No matter a man's crimes, no one deserved that fate. “Keirine, I'm so sorry.”

“He says he can handle it and not to worry, but Kodlak, they all say that! They all say they don't have a problem. And it's not just him, every man who ends up in there – when they do get out, they're a shadow of what they once were. You Nords can't stop at killing us and oppressing us, you have to inflict that on us too! And while we look after our own, once you have one addict on a camp, they start seeking Skooma out and once they've found a dealer... The poison starts to seep in and infect others. At that point, we have no choice but to step in and stop the rot before it can bring down the rest of us. I will _not_ have that poison infecting any more of my people!” Keirine was breathing heavily, face flushed, fury all over her face, teeth bared... but there was a tear in her eye.

“You kill your addicts,” Kodlak realised and the thought set his teeth on edge... but then again, Skooma addicts in Skyrim were just left to beg. And if it truly threatened their society that much... Kodlak didn't agree with it, but he could also see she had little choice if one addict from Cidhna Mine started bringing it into camp and spreading the disease to others. “Is there no other way?”

“I'm trying to find one!” Keirine cried. “That's why I needed the blood of a werewolf, they're resistant to addiction. I needed to look at your blood to see if it held any answers. As it is, right now the only cures I can find are the Briar Heart ritual and turning someone into a werewolf, and my brother will not agree to either of those. Most Forsworn would not agree to the second, and as for the first, we do not have enough Hearts for them all. I need to find a cure, Kodlak. I have to. When my brother gets out, and he will one day, I need to be able to free him from himself. I can't kill my own brother, I just can't, he's all I have left!”

“Not all,” Kodlak said fiercely, moving closer and putting an arm around her. “You have me. If you need more blood samples, just send word. You know I'll come if you call. Skooma's a bane everywhere. Whatever else you've done or will do, if you can find a cure for Skooma addiction, you'll have done the world a greater service than you can ever imagine.”

Keirine made a little choking noise, leaning into Kodlak's shoulder and they sat like that for a long time, Keirine sobbing quietly in his arms.

“Admorin, you are a far better man than I ever deserved,” Keirine finally said, drying his arms. “I think the samples I already have will help a lot. I think I may have identified the cause anyway, there's something in beast blood very similar to distilled Moon Sugar, but not quite. I'm wondering if it desensitises you to Skooma perhaps – you get neither the high nor the addiction because your body is already used to it. I don't know, I need to work out how to replicate it in a purified form and test it. More research required, but that is always the case with these things, no? It will give me something to do, anyway.”

“I'm sure you'd have found something, but I think this is a worthwhile use of your time,” Kodlak said, feeling rather proud of her. Hagraven she might be, cruel and evil woman she might be (and deliciously so at that), but if this worked, if she really did find a way to treat or cure Skooma addiction – well, that would balance it all out. “What about your king though, Madanach? What's he doing about all this? Surely he wouldn't want his people falling victim to Skooma? Can't he keep it out of the Mine?”

And that was where Keirine raised sad eyes to him, the heartbreak clearly tearing her apart.

“Did you not work it out yet, cariad? No, I don't suppose you know him well enough to guess. Kodlak... Madanach is my brother. He's my twin and he's King of the Forsworn, and he is one part warrior, two parts scholar, one part crusading hero, two parts strategic genius... and one part broken. Crazy, they call him, mostly in admiration... but they don't know the man I do, don't know the man who can fly off into fits of manic euphoria and use that energy to write an entire legal code or plan a war... and then sink into fits of depression because none of it is ever enough to fix the world and make it the beautiful place he thinks it should be. And now my lonely, vulnerable brother is addicted to Skooma.” Keirine looked like she was about to cry again, and Kodlak could feel his head spinning. The King in Rags had a Hagraven sister and said sister saw not the vicious murdering warlord the rest of the world knew but a vulnerable young boy who'd fallen apart at not being able to save his sister and who perhaps needed a lot more looking after than anyone suspected. Maybe that was why he'd gone on to be such a vicious warlord – he had a lot of vulnerability to hide. Skooma addiction was unlikely to make this state of affairs any better, and while no one in Markarth was ever letting him out voluntarily, someone like Madanach was eventually going to start planning an escape. He might even do it, and Kodlak just couldn't see Keirine actually being able to mercy-kill her own brother if it came to it.

“That's not something I ever expected,” Kodlak admitted. “But now you've told me... yes, it does all make sense. I don't think I exactly approve of him, you understand... but I can see he means a lot to you. So... I hope by some miracle this all works out and you get your brother back, with his addiction treatable and the Forsworn able to work something out with the Nords. I know it's a long shot.”

“I know, and I'm unlikely to get it,” Keirine sighed. “But thank you, my Kodlak. You have shown me more understanding than I ever expected... certainly more than I deserve. I will miss you.”

“I'll miss you too,” Kodlak said and she reached up to give him one last kiss, pouring all of herself into it. Both knew it'd be the last for some time.

“I will see you again, beast,” Keirine whispered. “You can count on it.”

“I'll mark the days,” Kodlak whispered back. Keirine smiled, stroked her face... and then she was gone. Kodlak felt his heart break as she vanished, tears finally coming as he realised it was over, his Hagraven gone and that whatever they had in the future, she and he would never have this again. But she had given him the truth and had given him hope... just as he'd inadvertently given the Forsworn hope for, if not victory, at least surviving defeat. Despite himself, he secretly hoped they'd manage it one day. He always had had a thing for the underdogs. Getting to his feet, he headed for Dragon Bridge.

On the way back to Jorrvaskr, he'd meet Farkas and Vilkas and young Aela the Huntress, all three bright young things who'd let grief overrule their good sense and been slaughtering Forsworn in revenge, and he'd greet them, let them fling themselves on him like the young pups they were and reassure them he was fine... and then gently chide them that vengeance was not the answer to any grief and an honourable death was what they all sought as true Nord warriors, wasn't it? When Vilkas pointed out he clearly wasn't dead, Kodlak just smiled, patted him on the back and told him that meant there was no need for vengeance was there? While Vilkas was still puzzling this one out, Kodlak steered them all home and later wrote to Keirine not to worry, he'd calmed them all down and the vendetta had been resolved satisfactorily, although he'd had to buy them off with some story of carving his way into Hag's End only for the camp's beautiful leader to fall instantly in love with him and offer her body in exchange for peace, and obviously he'd felt honour-bound to accept. 

The response was amusement and telling him he'd been a very bad boy, and any day now they'd be getting word in of a stolen artefact needing retrieving from Deepwood, a job he'd best attend to without delay. Also he might well be getting jobs in on a few other camps, and if he could ensure the Hags there were taken care of, Keirine would very much appreciate it. Kodlak could only shake his head. Typical Breton politicking and intrigue. He'd thought Reachmen immune but apparently they were no different – just bloodier about it.

And so the long stalemate began, of the Forsworn under siege from Nord mercenaries, including the famed Companions... but somehow the Companions never really succeeded in wiping them out, while the Forsworn did just enough to keep up a fearsome image but not enough to get anywhere. Until in 4E 201, the Year of the Dragons, a certain young High Elf Dragonborn got herself incarcerated and finally gave the King in Rags something other than Skooma to get excited about... but that is another story.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes on the Rhanic:
> 
> Cariad - beloved  
> Admorin - Nord man  
> Creenama - my heart
> 
> Obviously the tale of the Altmer and the King is Nightshade and Juniper, in which one starts by saying 'get me out of this bloody prison' and ends by saying 'I do' and the other quite literally goes from Rags to Riches.


End file.
